Do No Harm
by PhantomMemories
Summary: After an attack on America, the personification vanishes.  Kink Meme De-anon request for Amnesia and Doctor!America.
1. Chapter 1

Forever after, England would remember that morning. The sense of calm, and quiet that had enveloped his house. He'd made tea, and set himself up in a chair in his garden to spend the morning hours with a book and the quiet company of a few fairy friends.

The ringing of the telephone inside the house went ignored for the first few attempts. No one should need him urgently at this hour- he'd done all his paperwork yesterday in preparation for his afternoon departure for America. There was no looming crisis in his lands- he would be the first to know-

America, however had been a bit under the weather lately, and this trip would be multifold. To see his lover, because it had been far too long since the two of them had had a weekend together- and to provide the younger Nation with some measure of comfort as he battled a series of financial woes.

When the urgent ringing spread into the second quarter hour, and was accompanied by a hollow thumping that England recognised as someone beating at his own front door, he sighed and set aside the volume that he'd been trying – and failing- to absorb himself in before he needed to leave to catch his afternoon flight.

A wild looking France stood on the other side, and before England could make heads or tails out of the sudden relief that crossed over the other Nation's face to replace the unaccustomed anxiety, he was seized in a sudden crushing embrace.

Which, also uncharacteristically, was free of wandering hands.

"Dieu merci," France was murmuring in his own language as he just _held_ England close. There was something else, but England didn't quite catch it in the sudden surge of indignation. He recovered enough to start pushing France away, but froze, caught by the sudden realization of exactly what France was saying.

"Thank God, we were afraid you'd already departed- that we'd lost you both."


	2. Chapter 2

The pictures filtering through what was left of the news satellites were grim. The numbers of dead and wounded- daunting. Through it all, England could only watch and listen to the very impersonal calculations with the same surreal passivity that had enveloped him since France had showed up on his doorstep with the news.

Still, each time the phone rang, each time someone knocked upon his front door (and there were many of those, each Nation scrambling for information, for a sense of what was going to happen now that _he_ had fallen...) England felt the hope surge through his entire body, almost expected that familiar face to appear, for that beloved voice to whisper his name-

England's heart was in his mouth as he opened the door this morning, three days after... his boss had refused to allow him to fly to America, to be next to him. There was too much at stake in the world to act upon personal feelings. England had to find a way to keep the rest of the world's markets from collapsing, keep the vultures at bay while his people, and other allies tried to piece together what was left.

(Bad things came in threes, Reflected England once in the hours after hearing of the multi-pronged attack. It hadn't been enough that the EMP bomb had escaped a greatly reduced military shield to neutralize most of America's communications networks and electronics. The bombing that had followed had specifically targeted his military and financial centres. Granted the automatic retaliation by the forces not within the weapons range had reduced North Korea to nearly as much rubble as it had left America, but still... England was waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.)

The heavy door seemed even more weighty as he pulled it open to find... the familiar face that had been haunting his dreams on the other side. A face etched in lines of exhaustion, Plasters on the side of his face, half covering the bruise- And sombre violet eyes met his.

Canada, who was close enough to America to be affected by the blasts, by the EMP-

England broke.

It took an hour for England to calm down.

But the tears still threatened like never before.

"Spain is going to take Mexico under his protection. He's pretty bad off right now." Canada's fingers fidgeted on his lap. As soon as he noticed, he was pouring England another cup of tea, fussing with the sugar, the milk, and the biscuits that had been dug out of a stash that America had brought to him. "My people are recovering well. It didn't hit us as hard as- I thought I'd better come."  
>"Why?" England managed, "Why didn't you-"<p>

"I went to America's house," Canada went on, as though he'd never spoken, a spark of his brother's bravado shining through. "He wasn't there."

"He was ill. He was supposed to be resting- I was supposed to be there in the evening." England's heart ached. "If he wasn't there-"

"His friend Tony was there." Canada's bravado was a show, England could clearly see the sorrow in his eyes. "America was gone the entire day before-. Told Tony he wanted to surprise you with something, and he needed to go get it by himself- and then in the night-"

"Where is America now?" England had to ask. Please, let it be a hospital. A refugee camp. Somewhere that he could fly into, and at least see those eyes, touch that face- let him know that ...

"I don't know." Canada stopped looking at England. "The house was destroyed, England. It's on the edge of one of the blast zones- the closest city was the ground zero for one of the bombs. Tony barely survived."

"Then he-" The edges of the world grew fuzzy. Oh Gods, America. The sweet-faced baby, the handsome young man- the one who had loved England so wholeheartedly-

"England? England!" The panic in Canada's voice brought him back- "England, I don't think he's dead."

"He-" England clung to the slender thread of hope that the twin's voice gave him, stammering uselessly. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I can feel what he's feeling, and the other way around. It's like a swinging door between us- but..."

"If he's alive, then you can find him." England rubbed his eyes on the back of a cuff. America was always making him cry. He shouldn't become a watering pot if the boy was just a little lost. "Why are you here then, instead of looking for him?"

"Because the door is blocked, and I can't open it anymore." Canada's voice trembled. "If he were dead, it would just be gone, right? And with his lands and people like they are- I don't know if..."

"My people are doing what they can," England was suddenly grateful that his PM had decided against his going. On the ground in America, he would be just another rubble shifter- in the way, more often than not- here he could make the necessary arrangements to continue to protect the boy and his people. "Everything is a bloody mess, thanks to cutbacks, but-"

"I can help from where I am." Canada was holding his hand, England suddenly realized, and rubbing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "And I can keep looking. With all the electronics cooked like they are, it's going to just take a little longer. I will call you with anything that I find."

After Canada left, things continued on.

Keep calm, and carry on, as the motto went. England and Canada shared the responsibility for helping the people get back on their feet- but the government was weak. Infrastructures were shattered with both records and communications.

Keep calm. England often had to remind himself, though the near physical ache of wanting to just _hold_ America once more nearly sent him to the brink.

But, as days turned to weeks, the only calls from Canada were to keep England informed upon some of the day to day operations that needed doing. No signs of America, the personification. No one had heard of an 'Alfred Jones', or if they had, it was always not the correct one, and the search would begin again.

A year passed.

Then two.

A handful of years, and America's lands were scarred and torn, but healing. The strong people were surviving, some thriving- and England was almost used to the emptiness of his bed, the absence of all-hours phone calls to talk about nothing in particular.

("I think it will always hurt," England told France in one particular moment of weakness. "I want to believe he's alive, and just trying to find his way home."

France just nodded, and refrained from groping England, as he helped him home to bed. He had heard similar from Canada, and between the two of them and the lost _lapin_, he wondered if his own heart could take watching them continue to deny what had happened.)

In the eleventh year, England had almost given up hoping, and focused on the continuation of the relationship between himself and Canada's protectorate (Because Canada still refused to give up, and merely absorb his neighbor, his twin, into his own lands. He wasn't Russia.)

At midnight, the day before the anniversary of the last time anyone had seen America, England's phone rang.

"D'you have any idea what bloody time it is?" England slurred into the phone, still drugged with sleep, and quite annoyed not to be allowed to continue it.

"Sorry, sorry- I forgot the time difference," The familiar soft tones apologised. Canada. "But Arthur-"

"It's all right, Matthew." England slipped into the more familiar form of address easily, "I'm sure it was important. That annexation movement acting up again?"

"I have a lead." The soft voice was, England realised only now, shaking. And with those four words, he himself was wide awake and doing the same. "England- Arthur. After all this time- I- I was about ready to give up, and then this-"

"You found him." Breath catching in his throat, heart racing. He'd only thought he'd been close to giving up."He's alive-"

"I found a lead," corrected the other voice. "It may be entirely the wrong person, and just a coincidence that he looks like- but-"

"What did you find?" The slender golden threads of hope were stronger than England.

"A Polaroid snapshot- it's almost eleven years old, so it's really faded, but that's the only thing they had, so they used them-"

"Why- what-" England was lost for words.

"Digital cameras weren't working- and even if they did work, what use would they be if you had to have the camera in order to share the picture?" Canada continued, not even waiting for a response, or stuttered word. "Chemical photography was the most immediate thing- The numbers of dead and missing were so high, and people were doing what they could to reunite families- including the ones who were too young to give any information, and the ones who were unable to give any information-"

The idea processed in his head. Yes, he'd heard stories of people finding one another, miraculously surviving- but England had been too busy looking for a name, listening for that phone call-

"There were a _lot _of dead, and unaccounted for- there still are. But there were wounded and lost children who were found in the rubble. And adults- some found relatives, but a lot- well, they took these pictures of some of the kids and some of the folks they couldn't find any identification on, and tried to circulate them to see if anyone would come forward-" Matthew barely paused for breath, "And one of them looks a lot like him. It's not … in the area we thought he'd be, and he looks awful, but still, it looks like- Al. And he's alive. America is- Alfred is-"

"Where?" England tossed his duvet aside, and swung his legs out of bed. Fuck sleeping. "Where is he, and why hasn't he even sent a message to one of us? Eleven bloody years, and-"

"I don't know, Arthur," Matthew said, "I don't know why, or if he's still there- "

"I'm coming over on the next flight out." England staggered a bit as he reached for his shirt. "Where am I going?"

"I'll make the arrangements, England, you go back to sleep."

"As if I could." Energy pulsed at the very thought of seeing- being able to hold- "I can't sleep, knowing-"

"Look... things have recovered well here, but it's still a bit of a mess in the information department. It took me this long to find this picture because of the sheer number of pictures and drawings being circulated. If he's there, you don't want to look like a zombie, and if he's not- well, we'll keep looking, and you'll need all your strength for that." He could hear the effort in the voice, and knew: Canada was having the same difficulty as England in not immediately running to wherever it was the photo had originated. "It's been eleven years, Arthur. One more day won't hurt."

"But..." England started to protest, but he knew Canada was correct, and he wouldn't do anyone any good if he were exhausted.

"When you wake up, the itinerary will be at your door, and I'll meet you at the airport. Sleep- I have more phone calls to make."

Reluctantly, England obeyed, and found it far too easy to slip back into slumber- but this time, instead of nightmares about that day, there were far sweeter images on his mind- of blue eyes lighting up as they lit upon England, and the tight embrace that followed.

His pillow was wet when he awakened.


	3. Chapter 3

Idly, France flipped through the pages of the latest reports to be dumped off on his desk. News of this strange new world without a bright-eyed superpower to suggest ridiculous solutions to the problems that plagued the globe. No giant robots to break through the clouds that lingered for so long over the burning lands. No suggestion of bubble pods to capture the heat of what little sun showed through, in order to grow crops to feed those left without the support of that same now defunct nation. The world had suffered without America, whether they liked to admit it or not.

If nothing else, they no longer had a source of constant happy smiles and enthusiasm that could energize some of the oldest among them. And the infuriating stubbornness that had helped some of them endure- and helped them rebuild when all was lost.  
>Sighing heavily, France fought those image-memories of the bright haired youth pulling him away from work, in order to explore Paris while England was busy. The same boy who chose his rival, and yet managed to at least try to be friendly with him. Those nights and confidential conversations that had led to an evening that resolved the tension that had been eating away at both America and England for decades, if not centuries.<p>

The only down side had been the black eye, when Matthieu realised what France had encouraged, and seemed to have failed in the temporary- but how could he not at least try? The memory of more than one heart-to-heart had ended the same way.

_ "I still love him, Francis. I always have, and I think I always will- but he thought of me as a brother before my Revolution, and now he hates me. It's my fault, I know- but I suppose that's the price I had to pay to grow up..."_

The sorrow and love that was carefully hidden from the world- longing gazes given when the other couldn't see them. How could France, the country of l'amour resist the chance to patch together that which had been broken?

And now England's heart was shattered all over again. And Canada- poor Mattheiu. There was nothing that France could do for either of them, except listen, and perhaps let his hands wander a bit, to provoke the former out of the fits of melancholy that he fell into far too often now.

The next note in the stack caught his attention briefly. A sign of how far America- the land- had come in terms of healing. While the land could no longer claim superpower status, unless the people chose to merge their nation with Canada (And despite the way that Canada said he didn't want to, he might not be given that choice in the end), the people had begun to reach out again. Some of the most charitable organizations came from those lands. After the undeclared war with North Korea, (Which had lasted all of two hours before both lands had been devastated) the country had not even been able to take care of itself, and now- now there were medical teams that applied to help other devastated countries. Many went to African nations, but this one was unusual. Despite the war, despite the feelings of hatred that one might expect, the latest group had filed their flight plans for the small half-nation.

The personification hadn't gone missing there- China hadn't any excuse to continue the war, considering the damage that had been done to the United States, not to mention the fact that it was North Korea that had provoked it- instead, the oldest Nation had been trying to patch together what was left of his little protegee. As large and powerful as China was, even he needed help.

Hence the medical mission.

On the third page, France's hand stilled, staring at the selection of passport photos of the personnel who were most likely in transit right now- Second row. Third photo.

A coincidence, surely.

A strange happenstance of nature.

But a glance at the name told him it wasn't... but the name was still setting off alarms in his mind...

France reached for the telephone.

The instinct to call England had been stilled almost as soon as it had risen. If Arthur or Matthieu had seen this photograph- Francis would rather they not, at least until he verified- there could be untold tears, and a further shattering of two bright spirits that were desperately in need of relief.

"Japon?" Francis spoke calmly, "My apologies for the odd hour of my call. There is a flight to North Korea which will be refueling in Tokyo tomorrow. I need to ask a favour."

*^*v*^*v*

The photo was almost as bad as the in-flight tea.

The figure was clear enough, however.

Half-lidded eyes staring emptily back at the camera lens were that familiar shade of sky, despite the faded quality of the image. A bandage was taped to one cheek, and the edges of more were visible where the picture cut off at his chest. The clear signs of burns stood out among the bruises and scrapes- so many injuries- but it was him. It was Alfred.

A not-quite memory insisted that some of the glazed expression was drug-induced, but England couldn't stop looking at it. The shape of his face, the curve of lips that should be forming a sunshine bright smile. Canada had been right about him looking worse for wear, but right now, even after eleven years- or perhaps because of it- this was the most beautiful picture he'd ever seen.

Canada had given him the picture at the aeroport, after the first startled moment that the two had met, and then an embrace. The surprise on Matthew's face was because of England's attire- he'd found America's bomber jacket in his own closet a few days after the attacks- the silly boy had forgotten it the last time he'd visited- and Arthur had taken to wearing it when he was alone, or just needed to imagine the strong arms wrapped around him just for a moment...

But that had been an hour ago, and Matthew seemed to have adjusted to the idea of Arthur wearing his brother's jacket. Either that or he was distracted with driving the ancient heap through streets that almost seemed normal- not filled with traffic or lights, but still not the deserted wastes of still images that had been crossing Arthur's desk for so long.

"Where do we start?" Arthur asked, trying not to let the emotional tears slip out. "I assume you've already been to the hospital."

"I asked there, but the only staff member who I could talk to couldn't really tell me much, other than most of the staff that was there eleven years ago is gone."

"What did they give you?" Arthur picked up on the subtle difference between 'much' and 'nothing whatsoever'.

"An address for one of the doctors- I think he might have been in charge of a few things then, because she was very adamant that I take it. She didn't speak much English, no French, and her Spanish dialect... well, Mexico has a few that are almost incomprehensible." Matthew snuck a glance over at him, with a faint smile, "From what I understood, this doctor will be happy to meet us, if he's still there. I think you might be... entertained by his name."

"What do you mean by 'if he's still there'?" England focused on that, rather than the entertainment value of a name.

"He's taken a position with a group of physicians and engineers who're going to be heading overseas to help another country. America is recovering enough to reach out again." Matthew gave a low chuckle. "And his name is Alain England."

Arthur couldn't suppress the bark of laughter at that. French and English all at once.

"I knew you'd laugh." Matthew smiled himself.

"Damned frog, sullying my name like that." The smiles hadn't faded.

Only a few minutes later, the grins and smiles had faded entirely as they knocked yet again on a door with the correct nameplate. A cat sat on the mat beside the door giving them a cool green gaze.

"He can't be gone, if he left his cat out, can he?" Matthew murmured.

"Sorry, dears, you're a bit late, if you were looking for Dr. England." The voice from the next door down called to them- then changed slightly as the elderly looking woman with the toffee coloured skin noticed their companion. "Well, there you are, Iggy, I've been looking all over for you- come to Miss Nettie, Al isn't going to be back for a while. You'll just have to deal with me not spoiling the stuffings out of you."

Arthur froze.

_ "Iggy-" The young man was not really in any shape to be coming to visit him, and it would be a few days before Arthur could come and see him. "I miss you, Iggy. I can't wait until you're here."_

_ "It's only a few days, Alfred, and I'll be there." The way Alfred lapsed into the nickname whenever he was hurt or sick tugged at England's heart- "Stay strong, dear heart."_

_ "I'll try, Arthur," The younger Nation sounded tired, "It helps just to hear your voice."_

"Al..." Matthew murmured. "Miss Nettie, you know Dr. England?"

"Course I do, honey." The smile was broad. Her accent was a bit southern, and a bit something else. "I'm the one who found him."


	4. Chapter 4

Tokyo, Japan

Japan had nearly refused France's request.

Nearly.

When the European Nation had called him at a bizarrely early hour, he had been concerned that there was yet another crisis in the world- and almost angry that it was not.

France hadn't explained the favour, at first, beyond 'Delay them in Tokyo I will be there as soon as I can.'

The invocation of England's name, and their friendship had caught Japan's attention before he hung up on France. The further invocation of Canada, brother to his lost friend had captured his interest.

_ "Any way you can," France had said, "Get them to fake a mechanical difficulty, manufacture a problem with their passports- just don't let that group leave. I must speak with them."_

_ "Why?" Japan had naturally asked, "Why so much trouble for a group of Americans- if they have no weapons, and no intent to harm North Korea-"_

_ "You will understand when you see them."_

The assumption that Japan would be too curious to merely delay the group had been far too correct. And after America-kun had- well, France had been far too considerate of England's well-being in the world meetings of late. Acting as a friend and ally, only continuing their petty bickering when it was becoming obvious that England or Canada was being overwhelmed by memories.

These past eleven years had been difficult for all who had been allies, worse for those, like Japan, who had been friends. It wasn't just the physical wounds- the way the fallout from Korea had brushed him- but the changes...

He'd been thrust into a more prominent role himself, and Japan spoke his opinions loudly these days, knowing that if he did not, there was no Alfred-kun to bring them forward. Switzerland no longer yelled at him for echoing the opinions and ideas that had been discussed during late night gaming or movie nights.

Japan had seen a few countries come and go, a few annoying, a few cherished- but America... he even missed the manipulative grin that Alfred sometimes had when trying to get someone to go along with something that they were barely interested in.

He missed his friend.

For all the bad things that had happened, the good outweighed it all, and his friendship with England was the closest one that he had now. And Japan could not allow the sombre Nation to break.

So he was there at the airport to assuage that curiosity. What could France mean by his remark- Japan would know _what_ when he saw them?

He was on his way down a short flight of stairs to where the delayed travelers had been escorted now that a (false) mechanical problem had been discovered upon the craft that was chartered for their group. And then, on the third step from the bottom, he heard it.

The ghost of a familiar laugh echoing from the area that he could see perhaps a dozen foreigners- all with varying shades of hair, most taller than he- the laugh was no louder than the others, but it was one that Japan hadn't heard for years-

He missed the last two steps, as he lost concentration and composure for that one moment, and fell. It couldn't-

"Oh, hey!" the ghost's voice preceded the realization that he'd attracted the attention of the group. "Are you okay there?"

Japan looked up, feeling his composure start to fray.

Those startlingly blue eyes looked back down at him with concern from behind a pair of round glasses. The face- the face was the same, and yet not. Perhaps a little older- and a long scar marred one cheek.

"Hey- " The voice asked again- perhaps there were others speaking, but this voice was the only one he could hear. "Let me help. Are you hurt?"

The pose as the specter reached a hand down towards him, reminding him of the days following the bombs-

"Is he okay, Alain?" Another voice called, coming to the side of this... ordinary human.

"Maybe you should take over, Rob." The friendly smile had faded just a fraction- Japan had allowed the memories to make him hesitate too long. "I think... I'm too tall and scary or something."

"No!" Japan gathered himself, suddenly reaching for that hand. It was warm, and alive- and damn, but it was familiar. "I was just- I didn't-"

_This._ This is what France had meant.

A surge of pain in his ankle distracted him from the chain of thought, and he nearly fell over once more, only to be caught in strong arms-

"Thanks, Rob." Amer- Alain said, "Can you help him over to the bench, so I can look at that ankle?"

"Not a problem, Alain." The other man had caught him, and was now helping him to the bench, where suddenly the blond was prodding the ankle with the air of someone who was used to doing this.

"Who are you?" Japan found his voice when no longer under the familiar gaze. "Just- who-"

"Looks like it's just a sprain. My equipment's still on the plane- they probably have a kit behind the desk." A brilliant grin was given to Japan as 'Rob' dashed off for the kit. "Don't worry. I'm a doctor."

"Your name?" Japan asked again, wondering at the similarities. If England were here- no wonder France wanted to meet him first. This was just a human with a similar build- he could see the differences now. The young man holding his ankle was thinner, a bit more frail looking. Older. And then there was the scar- "What is your name?"

"Ah. Introductions. My name is Alain England." The same short laugh, and Japan wondered if the man even realized what language he was speaking. "And yours?"

*V*^*V*^*V*^

"Alain was my son's name." Miss Nettie told them, as she poured the lemonade. ("Artificially flavored, I'm afraid- the real stuff is too expensive to keep around these days.") "He died in the service twenty years ago. And 'Al' had to be short for something, so when I took him in while he was going through therapy, we discussed it, and he took it on. Made it official, even."

"It was kind of you." Arthur said quietly, patting a green-eyed cat that had taken to him all too swiftly. "To give him some sort of stability when he needed it most."

"There were a lot of people hurting, a lot of 'em in need- but there was something about him..." Miss Nettie smiled fondly at him, golden glints in her eyes catching the morning light. "He was sick a lot in that first year- most folks were getting back on their feet in no time. Al just struggled. And he was lonely-"

"He could have called me. Us." Matthew sighed softly, voice not even making an echo. "I'm his twin- he shouldn't have been blocking me out."

"Twin?" Miss Nettie's head tilted slightly as she squinted at Matthew. "You mean younger brother, right? You do look similar."

"Um."

"We're both older than we look. Baby faces run in his family." Arthur lied quickly. "Now, about Al- why did he not call, or write? You said you found him-"

"Honey, if he could have given us any information to get in contact with you, we would've gotten ahold of you any way we could. We weren't even sure he was gonna make it for a while." Miss Nettie sipped her lemonade calmly, "He came stumbling out of a burning store, wrapped around a little girl he'd found. We found her parents easily- they were on the sidewalk- but neither of them knew who he was. By then, he was unconscious. She was the one who told us that his name was 'Al'- and that he'd said something else that sounded like 'England'. He saved her, and protected her. She was fine."

"But surely he-" Arthur felt a chill. Alfred had to have been hurting before he performed that last 'heroic' act. America and children- there was no way he could have resisted the need to help a small child. "He must have had identification on him!"

"I don't know how he survived, myself." Miss Nettie shook her head. "Fifty years in the medical field, fifteen in the ER, and I've never seen someone as badly burned as that survive. His clothes were either burned, charred, or melted to his skin. The only thing that survived was a piece of jewelry that he'd had on a chain around his neck. When he woke up... he it took him a week to talk. He couldn't tell us anything."

"Al..." Arthur heard Matthew whisper, but could not provide comfort. It might have been a decade ago, but Alfred- his Alfred. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to vomit or cry.

"He's much better now. A lot better than most burn victims can expect- the only thing that hasn't healed is his memory. And since there was no one who could identify him, we sent his picture off. After the first year, he decided he couldn't just sit around and wait. I gave him my son's name, and he took the other word that we'd told him he'd said before collapsing—hoping that it would maybe lead to a clue. Alain kept moving, and trying to rebuild. He found Iggy there, and brought him home the night he told me what he wanted to do next."

"And... what was that?" The lemonade was dreadful, barely a hint of lemon, and more of sweet. But Arthur needed it. Needed something stronger, really, but he'd given up most of that when he realized it wasn't helping.

"He wanted to help people. The cat was a start- but he wanted to help kids. Which makes sense, considering that he got hurt saving one in the first place." Miss Nettie smiled. "He's a pediatric trauma specialist. Youngest in his group."

Arthur's brain froze for a moment, at the thought. He knew Alfred was brighter than he acted, but- all he could do was stare at their hostess.

The peripheral glance of Matthew told him that Canada's mouth was hanging open. For a moment, Arthur wondered if his own was as well.

Miss Nettie was laughing. At the two of them.

"Underestimated him, didn't you?" The cat chose that moment to yawn, stretch, and take a leap over to Miss Nettie. "He acts like a giant child at times- but that's what it is. Just an act. The kids love him for it, and the adults love him for being able to get their kids to cooperate."

"The woman at the hospital- and you- where is he?" Matthew finally spoke. "We need to- It's just been so long- and-"

Keeping his eyes on Miss Nettie's face, Arthur was unable to voice a plea. Let him be somewhere safe, that can be easily-

"He's gone to Korea- the zone. They were looking for someone good with kids, and he volunteered."

Arthur felt his heart drop. If North Korea figured out who he was- or worse, if China figured out- or even Russia-

"He should be landing within the next few hours. Alain promised to call as soon as he landed, before they head out to the field." Arthur's eyes went to the old-fashioned clock in the corner, wondering if they had time to do anything, but realising that they didn't. There was no way that they could stop Alfred now. He just had to hope. "Wait with me, and you can talk to him. I know it's not as good as face to face contact, but- it's something."

There was no help for it. Even Matthew's face showed the same concerns. They would wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Tokyo:

There were others in this waiting area, Japan knew, but he could see none of them with Amer- Dr. England so close. He could hear the mutterings of a few- concerns in English about their flight, the timing of their visit, what they would do while waiting-

"You know, you don't have to trust me with your name. I can always call you 'big brother'-" The smile wasn't as brilliantly blinding, but it was there, and steeped in the kindness that had lurked behind the flashiness. "Is there someone we should call to get you home, or are you looking for a flight?"

The accent was atrocious, but the vocabulary was mostly correct-

Japan nearly choked on the idea of being called 'big' _anything_ by this person.

"Aniki?" The tone was playful, and serious. "Does anything else hurt besides the ankle? Did you bump your head, or your knee-"

"Honda Kiku." Japan said swiftly, before he could change his mind, before the man could call him by that appellation again. "My name is Honda Kiku."

"Didn't know you could speak Japanese, Al." Rob had returned with a red cross marked box. "You're full of surprises."

"I wasn't—" the doctor started, and Japan noted the slight confusion behind the smile. Fear, maybe? And resignation. But mostly confusion. "Ha, slipped my mind to tell you-"

"Your accent is horrible." Japan said, in English, feeling the need to come to the rescue. "Be glad he is not speaking for your group. You would be sitting on the wings of the plane, being served ten day old sushi."

"Ha ha, you wound me, Honda-san." Back to English now, but Japan noticed that he still used the honorific, and had gotten his name correct. "But it's true. I don't speak enough to get us around. I must have picked some up from that Japanese nurse I was working with."

"It was truly not that horrible, Otōto-kun." Japan said softly in his own language; there was something bad connected to knowing, and he was mildly curious as to what it was. "But I see that it makes you uncomfortable."

"How's that feel?" Oddly, the ankle had stopped hurting- at least while he was sitting down. "Much better, I hope. We can see if someone will bring crutches, or maybe one of those little carts in a minute."

Somehow during that brief conversation, Dr. England had managed to get the bandage and brace on the affected limb. Neatly- professionally. This couldn't be America. The Nation had a difficult time with band-aids. Japan could recall clearly the way England had been forced to re-do the treatment for a small scrape on America's knee- removing six or seven of the things in the process.

No, this could not be the same person, despite the familiar laugh, the similar accent, the appearance.

Still, he had just come to the rescue of a stranger. Just like Alfred-kun.

"Hey. You still in there?" A hand was laid upon his arm.

"Hai, I am still here." Japan allowed himself a small smile, "I was merely lost in thought, and remembered why I came to this place."

"Oh?"

"My government wishes to apologize for the delay of your mission, and offers its hospitality. A car is waiting to take you to a hotel, and if you wish, I can recommend a restaurant which makes very nice hamburgers." France would be there in the morning- and then in the afternoon, these people- and this troubling young doctor- would leave.

The way Alain England's eyes lit up in that old painfully familiar way tore a little piece of Japan's heart. It was Christmas and the Fourth of July all at once.

"Seriously? You have a place that serves burgers?"

"Oh for pete's sake, Al." Rob was laughing, "You'd think nowhere but America had them."

"That's not true. I know they have 'em in Canada." Al was laughing as well. "Canada has everything we have, and more."

"Not this argument again," Rob took the first aid kit that Alain handed him. "Being annexed into Canada isn't the answer for all the country's problems. C'mon- let's not go through this in front of our host."

Alain had been listing a number of flaws in his own country, but stopped when Rob reminded him that they now had a host who was listening.

"Sorry- I guess I'm just hungry." That smile. "We've got plenty of time for debate later."

Japan rose with the help of one of the others from the group- doctor or engineer, he did not know- but the glimpse of the dangling tag on Dr. England's carry-on bag gave him a moment of pause.

A Canadian flag, merged with an American one in the symbol of the movement to merge the countries. And apparently this young physician was a member of that group.

No. He could not be America, this young Alain; the Alfred that Kiku knew, and had been friends with for so long would never argue his flaws, or push for his own dissolution. Even if he was burning with questions, Japan could not find it in himself to push a man who merely looked like his old friend.

Alain had never met him before, and once France was satisfied they would be on their way, and likely, Japan would never personally meet him again.

*V*^*V*^*V*^

Traveling always wore upon one, France had learned long ago, and it was always best to freshen up after a long journey- even if one had spent half of it asleep. The other half had been occupied with the internet connection available to passengers. It wasn't nearly as good as it had been before America was reduced to a protectorate- a bit slower- but it had sufficed.

And the information it had provided...

A glance at his watch told him that the American plane had landed three hours ago. If Japan hadn't been able to delay them, it would have been long gone, along with this opportunity. As it was, France had called Japan immediately upon landing and found that not only had the other Nation delayed the group, but gotten them to accept his hospitality. The hotel that was named was not cheap.

With his usual efficiency, Japan had made this task a whole lot easier. Although... France was almost afraid of the anger that had smouldered underneath the gentle words.

_"Why did you not warn me?" Japan's voice was even. Almost cool. "You know I was not looking for _him_, and yet-"_

_ "Calmly, s'il vous plait." France's driver was giving him strange looks through the rearview mirror. "I did not have much information then, other than a photograph and a name. And I did not know how to explain the feeling-"_

_ "Have you told Igirisu?" The implied 'Will you tell him?' and all the associated guilt were implied. Not that Japan needed to say anything. _

_ "I just got here. There's been no time to call him. What would I have said to him? 'Mon petit, there is an American doctor who looks much like our lost _lapin_. Stay here and weep while I find out that he is just a random human who happens to look like the other half of your soul'? Non, Japon, I could not do that to him- could you?"_

_ "No..." The words came slowly, and the sounds of conversation in the background became more apparent. "So... he is just another human who is a living ghost, with the same laugh, the same eyes, and no memory of his friends. I agree if that is true. Igirisu does not need any more pain."_

_ "That... is yet to be seen. The part concerning Alain England's identity, that is- We are agreed that Angleterre does not need to be hurt again."_

The conversation had ended upon that note, as after his long journey, Francis Bonnefoy was checking in to the same hotel, and glancing around for that particular group of foreigners.

"There is a traditional bath here. That is where he is." The low voice told him. "He was reluctant to go in with strangers, so it is just his colleagues right now."

"Ah." Francis said, turning to find that Japan- no, Kiku amongst those who did not know- was standing next to him. "Thank you, mon ami. And I do apologize for my haste."

"Haste can be something that is needed. I doubt we would have found him again after he left my islands." Japan's eyes were darker than usual, with a hint of something resembling... "You implied that might be a chance..."

Ah yes. There was emotion involved. The two of them had been good friends, and the spark of _hope_ in Kiku's eyes told a lot more than the other had meant to show.

"All of the information on Alain England starts eleven years ago. He was yet another of the victims of the attacks who was taken in by one of his attending physicians. They estimated his age to be about sixteen. And intelligent- a genius, as he was able to complete pre-medical school in less than half of the time it would normally take. He practiced in the same city in which he was found until two months ago, when he began preparation to make this trip."

"Ah." Was the only response.

Looking up, France realised that he was at the door to the baths.

"The porter is taking care of your bag." The faint shadow of a smile was curving Japan's lips. "He loves hamburgers, baseball, and children. Also, has a cat named 'Iggy'. He has been very talkative. Just not about his childhood."

The same faint smile started to curve France's lips upwards as well.

"Be cautious. If he is America, then there is something else going on here." Ever cautious, not committing, even though the information was weighing heavily towards the positive.

"Will you call England and Canada? Arthur deserves- they both deserve to know. We should not all overwhelm him at once, however. I-"

"Just go, Bonnefoy-san. I know you have missed him as well."

Despite any past disagreements, Francis had missed Alfred. Had missed the sunny optimism- and missed seeing his neighbor too occupied with snogging the taller man to argue over pointless things...

The early evening air was cool, but the steam coming from the water in the bath told him it was warm. The soft echo of a laugh pinpointed the group, who were lounging about in a corner, chattering excitedly over their current accommodations- including a blond head that made Francis pause.

Without his glasses, Al still looked about sixteen- though there was enough wear that one could tell that he was older than that. The scar alone- it marred the normal beauty of that smiling face that he had fought England for so long ago. He was low in the water, but Francis could see white edges that marred the normally smooth broad shoulders...

He'd been hurt badly. But how badly?

Badly enough that he has lost almost everything about himself.

"Hello there." A man that seemed to be about the age that Al- not Alfred, Alain- was called to him. "Come on in- the water's terrific."

Alain seemed to be trying to sink into the water, a faint flush beyond that of the steaming water colouring his face.

"Bonsoir, mes amis." Francis smiled easily, but not quite as easily as Alfred had always done. How the boy had hidden everything behind the friendly smile, France would never know. "The waters are always fine here. My name is Francis."

"First time for us." The same man said, "I'm Robert. This is Alain-"

The rest of the group were introduced, however much of Francis's attention was upon the young man trying to hide in the water. This was not like America- the voice of doubt crept back in, even as he approached wading through the deliciously warm waters.

"Al, you don't have to hide." Rob told him, "It's ok."

"Ah, but not all of us are used to such things- the baring of the physical form within the presence of others-" France laughed, "It must be an American thing, this shyness. There is no shame in one's body."

"He's not usually shy." The other American snorted. "Al, seriously, it's all right."

"It is all right," France said softly, suddenly realising something. The younger had been mostly covered before- he seemed to be covering up those unsightly marks that he bore upon his shoulders- "I understand. But scars are the mark of a survivor. They fade with time- see? I have a few battle-marks myself."

"Y-yeah." That voice was the same, the pitch, the intonation. But the hesitation was not. And there was a slight touch of maturity of a sort. "I know. I tell the kids that all the time- it's still hard to deal with the stares and the looks-"

"I promise I will not give you the horrified looks, mon ami." Francis remembered a few of those, when he'd been just healing from the second world war. "I will not pity- after all, I have been there. I can give you sympathy, as one who has been in that position before. And perhaps admiration for the beauty of a form that has endured. Please- let yourself relax, as this place was intended."

Alain slowly nodded, and very obviously forced himself to relax, allowing those scarred shoulders surface slightly.

Had America ever been this insecure about such a thing? France would have said 'no', but-

"Thanks." Rob laughed, "We've been trying to convince him that nobody is going to care about those for years. Stubborn ass."

"Like you're any different." The smile was back on Alain's face, "I know- I'm just... I don't ever remember not having them, but it's like I do. Weird. But not as weird as your thing for perogies. Those things are nasty."

"Hey- I'll have you know that is the best food ever!"

The conversation moved away from old wounds, and on to other things that left Francis more confused than ever. There were no superheroes mentioned, but robots- as in robotic surgery tools- and the excitement in Alain's eyes made him look more and more like...

He was fast running out of time in which to prove to himself one way or another.

"Oh!" Alain suddenly popped up out of the water. "I almost forgot- I have to call home- Miss Nettie's probably up and waiting by now."

Any responses were lost to Francis, as he forced himself not to react.

The stares would have been nearly justified, he realised- and 'hurt badly' was an understatement. As Alain made his way out of the water, Francis could see the white scar tissue that lined the younger man's back, arms and legs. He recognized the cause, and despite the warmth of the water, shivered.

Burns.

Some of the old marks of wars long past had been obliterated, replaced. The few that he remembered and could pinpoint were mostly gone, though a few distinctive ones-

This was Alfred. He was really alive.

And he hadn't recognized France, nor Japan.

France almost wished for England's presence, however... between the obvious injury to his lover's body, the island Nation's reaction to not being recognised would most likely be more hurt.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to ask Kiku to call them so soon.

*V*^*V*^*V*^*V

France was in Japan.

Bloody fucking bearded arsehole was in Japan, when England needed to call him and tell him that he was fucking wrong about America, wrong about Alfred, and maybe gloat-

But he was in Japan, and considering their last conversations, considering his current state of mind, it was probably for the best. Arthur knew that he'd end up breaking down and outright sobbing (virtually) on France's shoulder again. (Bloody frog, no matter how many times they'd fought, it had come down to Francis being one of the most sturdy supports he had.)

It had only been an hour or two from the time they'd found where Alfred had been living, the person who had been helping him. As they were waiting for the call, his stomach was tying and untying. His heart was fluttering, as though he were a young boy waiting for- well. He wasn't young, but he was waiting for the sound of that voice.

Miss Nettie had been more than delighted to tell them about Alain- Alfred- how he'd been living, his friends, his studies. The way he'd broken the heart of many a nurse by remaining so devoted to the kids that there was really no time for a relationship. Besides- Alain told Miss Nettie once after she teased him about turning down a dinner with a lovely young thing- He didn't feel _comfortable_ with it. Like there was someone out there, and he'd know that person immediately, and they'd live happily ever after.

(That shouldn't make Arthur feel as warm inside as it did- and hopeful-)

He'd tried to call France to let him know. Canada had suggested it, lest Arthur give in to the nervous tears that were threatening, whilest he himself went with Miss Nettie to peek into his brother's life.

They should, England reflected, Probably call Japan as well.

"Goat-face is not at home." Arthur said as soon as Matthew returned with Miss Nettie. Words left him as he saw the look on the younger's face. "What's wrong, Matthew?"

"My boss called, Arthur. Annexation is coming up for a vote next month, and Yao has started making noise about the debt."

"That's..." Arthur tried recalling Nations that he knew who had been made a part of their neighbors. Hawaii, Texas, Prussia, Gwynedd, Powys- At least half of those were completely gone now. "Not good."

"And that's the understatement of the century. If Yao calls those debts, he'll be pretty much wiped out. If he's annexed- he could vanish entirely. And to make it worse-" Arthur was aware that Miss Nettie was trying not to listen in, but Matthew continued anyhow. "Al is a _part_ of the movement to merge with Canada as a province."

"Fuck." The word slipped out before he could stop it, the sudden pain of realising that he might just lose Alfred a second time- Arthur threw Miss Nettie a quick apologetic look."Sorry, madam. What is can we do?"

"Boys, I think your first concern is to get in contact with Al. It's been a long time for both of you- and even if he doesn't remember a blessed thing, he's still missed you. The friends he's made since he lost you have been a comfort, but there's something about finding family-" Miss Nettie scooted Iggy over on her settee, and stroked his buff and orange head fondly. "I've done my best, but I'm not really his mother. He's supposed to be in the vicinity of Pyongyang for six months before coming back for a break."

The telephone in the apartment rang before Arthur could form a proper response to the calm way this human was taking things that would confuse most. Then again, she'd been close to Alfred for the past eleven years. There was no way that giant robots, and insane balloon hijinks could never have come into a discussion.

"Alain!" Laughter, "How was your flight, sweetheart?"

Matthew gave Arthur a sidelong glance, and gestured with the vibrating cell phone in his hand. Another call. Hopefully good news, this time. The other Nation slipped out into the hallway.

"Yes, Iggy's fine. Sulking because I won't spoil him with attention. You're where? Oh! A good chance to relax before the hard work begins... Alain, are you sitting down now? All right then. Two men came by this morning about that old picture in the database. One of them looks a lot like you, and …. Alain? Sweetheart. Yes, I checked. Arthur and Matthew. Yes. They've been looking for you for years, ma cheri." Miss Nettie gestured for Arthur to come to the phone. "Al, someone wants to say hello to you now."

The phone was still warm from where it had pressed against Miss Nettie's cheek, and Arthur gathered himself. On the other end-

"Hello?" Alfred's voice was faintly cheerful, but Arthur could hear the carefully concealed teariness. It would be present in his own voice, he knew, but-

"Hello, Al." Arthur said, giving up on keeping from becoming that watering pot that he so despised, knowing that he would have to introduce himself. It wasn't like he could ask for more than one miracle. That America- Alfred was alive was enough. "I've missed you so much, love. I know you don't remember, but I'm Arthur."

"Hello, Artie." The smile was in Arthur's mind, seeing Alfred's face there, laughing, smiling- "I like the accent. I wish the timing had been better- I'd like to meet you. The world needs those Star Trek transporters, then you could be here, or I could be there, and – and- We need to meet soon."

"It's Arthur, you id-" He couldn't do it. Couldn't continue the half insult. They were both crying, Arthur realised. But this time it wasn't from that deep aching grief that he'd carried with him for so long. It was happiness. "God. I was afraid I'd lost you forever. I'll fly over there as soon as I can. Just stay safe. Korea is dangerous."

"I know, but I haven't gotten there yet- I'm still in Tokyo."

"Tokyo?" France had flown to Japan, according to his office. "You- you wouldn't happen to have met a man named Francis Bonnefoy in the past few hours, would you?"

"I met a Francis earlier. He's French. Seems like a really nice guy."

"I'm going to kill him." A bit of the warm fuzzy happiness had worn off. "I'm going to kill that fucking Frog. Bastard- "

"Hey, stay calm Artie. Does he know me too?" There was an eagerness in that voice- that same boyish enthusiasm that Arthur had missed so much. "He was giving me this _look_ earlier, like I was a specimen to be studied. Why did my application have to go through now? I could be home, and-"

"Yes, he knows you. Just be cautious- he's a bit of a pervert. Matthew and I can be in Tokyo tomorrow night."

"But my plane for Pyongyang leaves tomorrow afternoon. I committed to this mission months ago- I have to go. If it wasn't for that mechanical failure in the engine, we'd be there right now. I can call you, and you can tell me all about you or you can call me and tell me about me, and then we can meet up in Japan on my break- or wherever you want."

"It's dangerous for you to be in Korea, Alf- Alain. There are other reasons than the zone. Can you not delay a little longer?" Arthur used the handkerchief that Miss Nettie had left for him before busying herself in the kitchen to wipe away some of the dampness on his face. "Please."

"There are people who need me there, and I know that because I'm American they won't be happy with me. But I've got to help repair some of the damage that we did." There was an audible swallow. "But I've got so many questions. You weren't going to call me Alain. What is my real name?"

"That... is complicated, but we've been looking for you under the name of 'Alfred F Jones' for the past eleven years."

"I think I like Alain better." Arthur could almost see the face he was pulling through the telephone. "But what do you mean, 'it's complicated'? Is it an alias? Why can't you tell me?"

"It's why I wanted you to wait for me. We can't... talk about it over the phone. There are things that-" From the receiver he could hear the sound of voices in the background, and a muffled thud. "Al?"

Arthur didn't get a reply- and whatever else was going on in the background was drowned out by the door flying open to admit a pale and shaken Matthew.

"Matthew?"

"Yao is doing more than threatening." Matthew announced in that quiet way of his, "He's started."

The distant echo of a familiar voice on the other end of the phone filled the silence in his ear.

Kiku.

_" Dr. England? Are you all right? Alain?"_


	6. Chapter 6

Tokyo:

Japan hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the need to piece together this puzzle that was Alain England was too strong. When the young man had asked about a telephone so that he could call his 'Miss Nettie', Kiku had only been too happy to oblige him.

The first few minutes had been... well... exceedingly normal. Alain was away from home, and calling the woman whom he had admitted was as close to a mother as he remembered.

_That he remembered._

For some reason that simple phrase had given Japan pause in the middle of what had been a lively conversation during dinner. After that, he simply began to note more of the details. When the other physicians had talked about having wanted to be a doctor when they were children, Alain had talked about his cat, and how he'd realised how much had been lost, and how much he wanted to make it better, especially for the kids, who were the most vulnerable.

Without using the word, he'd said quite plainly that he wanted to be a hero.

Talk of seeing a baseball game the next time they were in Tokyo, led to Alain admitting that the most he'd seen was 'sandlot baseball' But he was certain that it had been great fun. He was hardly old enough to have never seen a professional baseball game. The Korean-American war had wiped most of the recordings, and the leagues that America had once boasted played far less these days- but it had only been ten years. Surely someone who enjoyed watching games would have done so as a child...

But it did help define a pattern. Every single time something came up involving life before the war, or being a child, Alain would skillfully avoid sharing anything of his own past, but charmingly steer the conversation towards someone else's memories.

And the faint sad smile that Kiku had caught on more than one occasion belonged on a more childish face- and vanished as soon as Alain had noticed him noticing.

_ Just like . . ._

The baths had been something of an improvisation. The visitors would, of course, have a shower unit in their rooms, but the communal bath would be far more relaxing, and provide a peek at an area of Alain's body that was under cloth.

As much as it made Japan uncomfortable, Alfred had always been the first to shed his shirt on a warm day- and while he tried not to look, he had noticed the telling scars that marked every Nation- barely visible, unless you knew, or had them pointed out. Getting Alain to go had been difficult- but his group had coerced him eventually, with the promise that it would be just them.

And that was unlike America.

The puzzle pieces weren't fitting together, and once he was on the phone with his surrogate mother, they fit less and less. The cat – Iggy- inquired about. His location. His health...

And then things got interesting.

The smile on Alain's face grew wider as his questions grew shorter.

"You're sure. You're really sure- you checked the—" A lot of silence, and the anxiety as Alain fidgeted. "Hello Artie. I like the accent- "

Artie? Could it be that-

There was laughter, and a conversation that Japan was now listening intently to, while trying to appear not to be listening to. Igirisu. England. He was sure of it, and Alain- he'd found Alain somehow, but not as directly as France. He faintly blushed at witnessing the younger man's emotional display. The tears of happiness, the relief, the -

"I think I like Alain better. But what do you mean, 'it's complicated'? Is it an alias? Why can't you tell me?"

There was no time, Kiku realised, as he saw Al's face suddenly go completely white with a look of incomprehension, to think about the implications of that conversation.

The phone fell from his hand, and Alain swayed where he stood, nearly staggering.

"Dr. England? Are you all right?" Japan asked, stepping closer to where the courtesy phone was anchored. "Alain?"

"Jet … lag." Alain mumbled, "Just hit me all of a-"

_ "Al? Al!" _Ah yes. That was England's voice. Not Alain, but Arthur- "_Kiku? Are you there? Is he okay?"_

Japan's primary concern was the young man in front of him, who looked, not so much jetlagged as run over by a figurative bus. Instead of grabbing the phone, he took hold of Dr. England's arm, and led him to the nearest bench. Fortunately, it wasn't far.

"Sit down. I'll let Arthur-san know." Kiku wasn't certain if Alf- Alain understood, but he obeyed. And then Japan returned to a now frantic Canada on the phone, "Ah, Matthew-san. I thought he was speaking with Arthur-san."

"_He was- Ja- Kiku, what's going on? Why are you there- and is Al okay?"_

_ "_He claims jet lag, but … he looks a bit ill. I am about to send for Bonnefoy-san, and Alain-kun's colleagues. This was very sudden." Japan made a gesture towards a porter, indicating the baths. The man was one of his own, and understood what he wanted immediately. "Is there something going on that I should know about?"

"_Yao's calling old debts that I haven't been able to negotiate. He's also landed troops on Hawaiian soil that he's claiming is owned by China- but I haven't gotten any more information yet. I don't know why he's doing this now- lousy timing..._" Frustration came through clearly in the younger's voice. "_Just when we found him-"_

"I believe this will satisfy any lingering doubts." Japan said, when Matthew didn't finish his sentence. The young man in question was leaning forward on the bench, head in his hands. "I attempted to call your office, as well as Arthur-kun's office, and they would only tell me that you were out. Bonnefoy-san found his picture among a group of doctors, and wanted to make certain before he told you."

_ "Sometimes Francis has good intentions, despite himself. I think Arthur isn't going to be happy with him for a good long while- and I'm not exactly pleased myself. We can be there tomorrow night."_

_ "_I do not think Alain-kun will be able to travel" Japan watched as the very human friends ran from the baths, followed by France. "His friends are here now. You have my number and direction for when you get here."

By the time Japan got back to the bench, Alain had roused a bit, still insisting that he was just tired- despite the faint flush on his face that one of his coworkers discovered indicated a mild fever.

Japan caught France's eye, gave him a faint nod.

It was returned with an arched brow, and a faint smile.

They would talk later.

Right now, taking care of their once lost friend came first.

*V*^*V*^

The opportunity to speak didn't come until hours later- Alain had been fussed over, practically carried to his room in the suite that Japan had provided, and there had been talk of taking him to a hospital-

But that had mostly been one of the engineers who was still not used to the idea of their group being filled with enough medical professionals to take care of their own group as well as the others they had been traveling towards. Japan was kept busy making arrangements for whatever the doctors asked for, as well as delaying the final leg of that flight until... well. Until Al could travel. If indeed, he would be joining them.

And France could do nothing but wait and pray.

One of the older doctors- the group's leader, if he recalled correctly from the sheets that he had read so long ago- just smiled at him, and told him in French that doctors made lousy patients, and that he didn't need to worry or stay up any later. She was certain that things would work out just fine.

And he merely told her that she was a lovely woman (and she was that- silver hair merely providing a bright crown-), but he would wait. So that was where Japan found France in the wee hours of the morning- sitting on the floor, and rubbing the beads of an ancient rosary in one hand.

"Did you make contact with Matthieu and Arthur earlier?" Francis asked, looking up from his pose to find an exhausted looking Kiku standing over him. He was certain that he looked the same. "He is-"

"I know." Japan said wearily, his interruption showing his exhaustion and emotional state. The small figure found a seat next to France. "Neither was home- however, they already knew as well. They were with his human guardian."

France blinked slowly.

"How they found him, I do not know." Japan waved mildly towards the room in which the youth in question was sleeping with one of his fellows nearby. "He was talking to Arthur-san when … he collapsed."

"The cause of this sudden illness? We do not usually succumb to plagues, unless our people-"

"It's China collecting on debts, and invading parts of Hawaii. England and Canada will be here as soon as they can." Japan frowned more noticeably than France had ever seen. "I have called a few Nations to suggest that perhaps they could condemn the actions, without telling them of America's presence."

"Is it wise to withhold information? If they knew, perhaps they would be more willing."

"Many are still struggling from the impact of his loss from the world stage. A few would be more than happy to take advantage of his current condition- financial problems aside." Japan watched France with the same soulful dark eyes that had seen so many centuries. "It is for Canada and England to decide. They know him best. They are his true guardians now, even if he does not remember them."

"Why now?" France turned the new information over in his mind. "Why at this particular moment-"

"I do not know." Japan seemed to read his thoughts, "I have not spoken with China yet."

"Perhaps we should."

"In the morning, France. We both must rest- this is not a time of war when we must be always alert. It will take Yao at least week to do any further damage. America's people will resist. America will not die so easily." Japan rose, and offered a hand to France, who stared at it in surprise. "Come. I will take you to your room- we can take more action when the day is new."

*V*^*V*^

England didn't remember much of the trip from Miss Nettie's house to Tokyo.

He wasn't sure if it were a combination of nerves, anticipation, or exhaustion. Arthur had slept for most of the trip- however it was off and on in those short bursts interrupted by dreams. And what dreams they were: the peacefulness of his morning in his garden interrupted by what had felt like an arrow to the heart; the tense anticipation of hearing from Canada, as he went to meet another 'Alfred Jones'; watching the video of his love's ravaged lands- and the first time he'd set foot on the scarred soil.

The last time he had seen Alfred.

By the time he arrived at the hotel with Matthew, Arthur was so keyed up that he felt as though he might burst into tears long before seeing- (and in some ways he was terrified that this was just another one of those dreams, those nightmares, and the person he was going to see would turn out to be a look-alike, a mistake, and his heart couldn't take any more-) and he was steered towards a comfortable looking chair as soon as he crossed the threshold.

"Angleterre, breathe." The voice was familiar, and the accent, and normally Arthur would rather do the opposite of what it told him, because it was merely Francis, and- "Breathe. Stay calm, mon cher frère, du calme. It will not do for you to faint as soon as you see him."

"It's really..." England forced himself to breathe calmly._ Stay calm. You've been through bombing raids, and not been this overworked. But it's _Alfred_._

"Oui." France's faint and sincere (He'd nearly forgotten that Francis could smile that truthfully, that honestly- not wanting anything.) "I recognised him from a passport photo, and wanted to verify before... I did not want to see you as miserable as the last false lead."

"How is he?"

"Still quite feverish- but insisting that he'll be all right to keep going tomorrow."

"Not with China messing with his economy, he won't." Arthur glanced towards the inner door to the suite, where they'd led Matthew a few minutes before. He'd agreed to let Canada see him first, if for no other reason than to allow England to compose himself. "But... he doesn't remember me. He doesn't remember-"

"He doesn't remember anything before eleven years ago." Francis corrected, "However, he did remember enough to realise that 'England' did not mean merely a place to him, but a person."

"Has anyone told him who he really is yet?"

"Non," Francis hesitated, "I am not certain that in his current state of mind that he would believe it. How does one prove such a thing?"

"With the passage of time, and government identification- which no longer exists." England rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes. Damp, of course. "The EMP took everything, and the bombs took the government."

"Perhaps," Francis said with that same look in his eyes that Arthur had always dreaded. It meant that France was thinking, and usually it was an idea that involved embarrassment, humiliation, and France poking you and saying that he had just defeated you.

"Fuck." England said, automatically.

"You wound me, mon cher." France was still smiling. "I have an idea..."

"It had better not involve nudity, alcohol, or pasting roses to our crotches. Or any combination thereof!"

France only laughed.

"No." England insisted. "I will not-"

"No glue and roses," France reached a hand down to him, "But I cannot promise that there will be an absence of the rest. For now, however, mon cher Angleterre, I must find Japon, so that I can begin to see if my plans are feasible. You, however-"

Arthur had taken that hand, after a moment's hesitation, and found himself standing again, albeit on slightly shaky legs.

"What about me?"

"You have to go and charm your amour once more. Try not to let your roguish ways take over- he is still ill, you know."

Arthur could feel his eyes widen almost comically as he took a swing-

And missed, as France ducked with another one of his annoying chortles.

"Arthur?" Matthew's voice came from the direction of the bedroom. "Are you-"

"He's ready, Matthieu." France's hand propelled England towards the door. "I don't think he'll pass out."

No time to splutter at Francis for being a perverted wine-swilling bastard- he couldn't find the words anyway. And Matthew wouldn't be much help, as he had this _look_ on his face. It was the soft and gentle smile that had been missing for far too long.

And last, there was that voice from inside the bedroom.

"Is that Arthur?" The same voice from the telephone, the same voice from his memories- England almost wanted to weep for hearing it. But there were differences from the past. There was a slightly rougher quality that had less to do with illness than old injuries- "Come on in!"

Enthusiasm was there, but subdued, and finally in the dim light of the hotel room England- Arthur could see America. His Al-

His legs held up until he reached the bedside, where the younger man was half propped up against pillows. He was thinner than Arthur ever remembered, even during his growth spurts. (Or perhaps he had just missed that stage because he was away so often-) A more mature air seemed to hang about him, as the familiar smile (Subdued, but so wonderful- so beautiful-) And those blue skies studied him so carefully, just as carefully as Arthur himself was-

"You... look like you need a hug." Al raised his arm in invitation, and suddenly, without even pausing for thought, Arthur was there, arms wrapping around the other man's torso, face buried in the crook of his neck. (A familiar position, but there were differences, the way the skin was textured under the fabric he could feel... The same with the warm cheek that was now brushing against his hair. The same, and yet...) "It's all right, Arthur."

"God damn it, Alfred," Arthur spoke through a mouthful of fabric, and clinging to Al like his life depended on it. "You wanker, you're always bloody making me cry."

"So Matthew told me." Alfred chuckled, his arms still around Arthur, "He told me... we were... uh... close. And you've been looking for me all this time."

Arthur pulled away gently, but kept his hand on Alfred's arm, as though he could vanish at any moment. As though this were a dream. But in dreams, America had never looked so tired, and old. The scar upon his cheek didn't look to be a burn- it was, perhaps, falling rubble, or falling bombs that had done that. He reached his other hand out to gently touch it.

Al didn't move, blue gaze still not showing much in the way of recognition, but that soft smile was directed at him, as was the hand that was reaching towards his face.

"Arthur- your eyebrows are-"

"Enormous. Yes, I know." He couldn't summon much anger towards the boy. His boy. Alfred was alive, what point was there in getting angry over having his most distinctive feature being pointed out. This Al was not used to him, how he looked- it was only natural. "Hideous, and quite-"

"No, no-" The smile wasn't there, but a blush was. "That wasn't it- I like them."

"You..." Once again, within the space of an hour, Arthur was reduced to speechlessness. "You like..."

"I like them." A thumb traced along one, as Al's warm hand rested on his face. "They're so... expressive. How could you ever think they were ugly?"

"It's... a long story." Arthur brushed the rough skin on Al's cheek, watching him blink sleepily. Damn China for this- but it had allowed Arthur to catch up. "But not one for right now. Just- I know to you we've just met, but-"

"It's all right, Arthur, Matthew told me a few things. And- I... think..." There was that blush again, darker than the fever-hue, and the hand slipped away from Arthur's face to his arm. "Now that I've met you, I think... I can understand. And I do want to get to know you again- even if I never really remember you- I..."

The stumbling hesitation was one that most Nations wouldn't recognise. England wouldn't have at one time, but- he did. And something inside him warmed, until he was certain he was glowing. A prickle of tears was not as easily hidden. Arthur thought he'd cried all he could, but here he was-

"We've got time, Al." The younger's eyes were starting to fall shut, even as Al resisted, "We have time. Sleep for now. I'll be here when you wake up."


	7. Chapter 7

China was refusing his calls.

More, he had instructed his people to not disclose his location, nor any other information about at what hour he might be available for conversation.

Incredibly frustrating, and absolutely unheard of except in time of war.

Japan frowned. This situation was complicated, but it should not be this difficult for anyone to read the next action, the motivations- was China really declaring a war upon a Nation that could no longer defend himself properly?

The technology that had been developed in the past decade could not accurately piece together a way to get to China. The coded messages were themselves apparent nonsense. The only thing that Japan could gather in such a short time was that Yao was not in his capital, and was acting in defense- something that did not make much sense, considering that there were very few minor wars right now, and none that involved China.

There was one last resort. It was one that Japan hesitated to use, because of the potential for things to go terribly wrong, and for events to spiral further out of his control. When he'd spoken with Germany earlier, it had been suggested as a means to brief those who did not know-

"Doitsu-san." Japan murmured into the phone, as he shot a mild glare towards the west, and his neighbor. "What we discussed before..."

"Ja?" Germany sounded as though he'd been awaiting Japan's call, though he had not given any indication that he might call his one-time ally within the same day. "Is there a new development in the situation with China, Kiku?"

"Hai, Ludwig-san," Japan said mildly, "Yao has gone underground, and refuses to speak with anyone. It is urgent that we find out what exactly spurred this invasion, and what we can do to stop it. As much as I dislike the need, and … fear that it may do some harm, I believe that we must call for a meeting. I suggest as soon as possible in my Tokyo."

"What harm could it do? Canada and England both knew that America's lands must be annexed, or become vulnerable like this." Here, Germany paused, "But I have known you for too long. There is something else."

"There was something that I was concealing from you, old friend." Japan glanced towards the brightly lit city. His city. America had once had many like it, all bright and glowing, full of people and vehicles- but now most of those cities were ash and ruin, and the people in them had either died or scattered across the lands, trying to survive. And they were surviving, rebuilding- "Because I do not wish to see _him_ hurt any further."

"Alfred." Ludwig did sound a bit nostalgic, the stoic nature softening a bit at the memories of one of the youngest of them, and the devastating attack. Even if many of the problems that had arisen because of America and then because of America's destruction lingered, much had been forgiven. Time, it seemed, had softened the memories, and made them easier to bear. "It has been eleven years, Kiku. I didn't know you were still holding on."

"I wasn't." Kiku found his voice to be almost trembling. Odd. He'd never lost that sort of control before. "He has been found. We did not wish for those who had wished him ill, nor those who might wish to attempt to control him to find out so soon."

"Are you certain?" There was surprise in that voice. Perhaps a bit of curiosity and a fraction of disbelief. "Where is he?"

"Safe for now. Ill, from Yao's unfortunately timed ventures, obviously. Arthur and Matthew are with him at the moment."

"Should I tell the others that- he's alive when I send out the call?" Hesitation. Germany liked yes or no answers. Things being precise and clear- having someone coming back from the dead did not fit, and it made him nervous. "Why has he been hidden so long?"

"No." Japan said decisively. "Keep this between us for now. I will explain when you arrive. As it is, the more who know, the more likely it is something will go wrong."

"The situation is delicate then." Germany sounded as though he were frowning deeply. "I will be there soon."

As they both ended the call, Japan glanced back at the western window, where now a familiar slender figure sat watching him.

"Thank you." France said softly, "For taking care of that. Trusting me. Taking care of my little brother."

"You are most welcome, Francis-san." Japan could feel the faint smile on his own face. Canada and England had not been the only nations who had loved America in some way. Only now Japan could see the glisten of tears on France's cheeks in the moonlight. "He is alive. And we are going to keep him that way."

***V**^*V*^*V*^

The morning light always seemed to bring fresh surprises, and renewed hope, even in the darkest of times. Those first few rays that prodded at the windowsill, and softly kissed his cheek... France, for all the parties and luxuries that he was well known for, still rose early, even if he had just gone to bed a few hours beforehand. It was a habit of those who tilled the soil, to greet the sun.

France might no longer take up a plow, tend a vineyard, or milk goats, however he still enjoyed those precious moments before the birds began their chorus.

A moment of peace before the world began converging on Tokyo, a world full of arguments, and fear, and pain and disappointments- and questions. Dear God, the questions.

Japan had promised Germany answers, however neither he, nor France, truly knew all of the answers. And as for Alfred- Alain- America.

Sighing, France slipped out of bed, and began his usual morning routine.

What were they to do now that they had found America? The simple idea that he had presented Japan with the evening before would take time to bring results, and the other Nations- would they be presenting him? Introducing him? Or keeping him hidden from view, until they could get Yao to stop trying to make his economy crash?

Questions, questions, and more questions- and those were only the ones about their current situation- The sparse answers that Matthieu had provided hadn't been detailed. Francis knew nothing about Al's situation for the past decade, other than he had been hurt badly, did not remember anything, and been taken in by a kind soul.

And had become a doctor.

The idea itself settled into France's mind with some difficulty- it was hard to reconcile the brash Nation with so many insane ideas with this …. medical professional. And it was even more difficult when the concept of just what specialty Al had gotten himself into. (It wasn't the fact that he was taking care of children, no, Francis knew that America had always had that huge soft spot for children-) The words 'Pediatric Trauma Specialist' and 'Alfred' did not seem to belong in the same sentence.

But from what the other physicians and colleagues told him, Alain England was very good at what he did. Had graduated with honours from one of the remaining universities in under the normal allotted time, and had been the first pick for their particular mission.

The answers to France's questions wouldn't be found in his own hotel room, however, no matter how brilliantly lit. No, they lay in the mind of the boy who...

As France entered the suite, he noted two things.

First, that England looked almost as tired as he probably felt- though there was an air of wondering joy about his face that was heartwarming. He probably hadn't left Al's side since he'd entered that room last night.

Second, was that someone had somehow deemed Alain England to be well enough to be out of bed, and eating a light breakfast of tea and toast at the suite's small dining area. The look on his face, despite the signs of illness (he looked a bit better than he had yesterday), displayed a contentment that had been absent when Francis had first met him a day and a half ago.

Matthieu had let him in, and still had that slightly smug smile upon his face- the one that reminded Francis that he'd been wrong. There was still worry in the violet eyes- but that would probably never change. There was always something to be concerned about.

"Angleterre," France said softly, somehow pulling the attention of both men. "Matthieu, the others are on their way to discuss the situation. It must be decided what to tell them."

"Others?" He might have looked better, but Al didn't sound much better- the tired and quiet voice faintly scratchy with economic troubles.

"Extended family, of a sort." England explained, not hiding that troubled look in his eyes well at all. "Some friendlier than others- I... Francis?"

"Germany has been told only that he is alive, with a promise of further explanation when he arrives. The others are going to want a very good reason to condemn China's actions, unless we tell them."

"He's invading another country, for God's sake, France," England was angry. Al was... confused. "He's initiated hostilities without provocation- that hasn't been done in this way for-"

"He's attempting to take over a territory without visible representation." Mattheiu finally spoke, "Arthur, the vote for annexation isn't until next month. I can try to protect the territory, however technically China isn't attacking _me, _and I can't respond with more than an official condemnation."

"You understand then." France could see now, that the worries that Canada had been hiding were more than just because of the physical form of his brother being missing. He knew this could happen. "Yao is incommunicado, and I'm not certain I'd want to tell him-"

"God no," England had found his voice again, and spoke with a barely restrained anger. "Between China, North Korea and Russia- I think he would be the worst. At least Russia is trying to reform, and North Korea- wouldn't be able to do anything."

"What's going on?" Al was giving them the same dazed and confused looks. "I get the flu for a day, and suddenly there's a war going on?"

"China has invaded Hawaii, Al, claiming old debts," Matthieu laid a hand on his twin who now... would not likely be mistaken for him. So much change, "And because the government is gone, and dependent on m- Canada, there's not much that can be done."

They hadn't even tried to tell him. They were keeping it from him-

"That's why America should've become a province years ago. Then China would have thought twice about invading." Al's face was rueful, "It's not like we have much left to offer Canada, but still, it might make up for being the biggest bully on the planet. Maybe we wouldn't be as rude or.."  
>"Al..." Matthieu looked as though he were going to cry. Probably would in a moment. "You weren't-"<p>

"Mattie?" Al was just staring at Matthew. "What's wrong?"

"Excuse me." Canada blurted out, and left the room. Oh yes. That was something that Japan had mentioned earlier.

"What did I say?" Al was looking even more lost than before, setting down his teacup. "Is he-"

"Alfred... Al..." England said softly, not meeting France's eyes- his own fixed upon his tea. "You remember when you asked what your real name was, and I told you it was complicated?"

"Is this wise, Angleterre?" France glanced between them.

"Belt it, Frog." No heat to the command, "We have to tell him eventually. If the others are coming, then someone will see him, and call him by his real name at some point."

"So Alfred isn't my real name either?" Suspicion and a touch of something almost like fear hit Al's face. "Is- what does it have to do with China invading a territory? Were my parents spies or something?"

"Your parents..." France managed to keep the snort quiet- but not quiet enough, as the look that England was giving him would curdle milk. "Mon cher, no."

"For every country in the world there is a National personification." The look of amusement on Al's face didn't bode well, but England continued anyhow. "Nations are affected by things that their citizens are not. They do not die, unless their lands, people, and government is gone. Bound to the earth, and creatures of nature. We- Nations do not die easily, and the bonds that we form with one another can be..."

"He called you 'England'..." The tone was suddenly changed, and France could see dots being connected in Al's mind. "So I was calling for you- But it's just- "

"I had always wondered if he was brighter than he acted, Angleterre. I think I know for certain now." France found a bit of amusement in the befuddled expressions on both of their faces. "You are America. It is your name, and your true identity."


	8. Chapter 8

America had taken the news of his own identity well.

A bit too well, in England's opinion.

It had been only two days since they had first talked (talked again, in England's point of view)- and they were all most likely overwhelming the poor boy as it was.

After France's announcement, Al had just smiled fuzzily, muttered something about how he always knew there was something weird about himself. Then made some excuse or another about needing to lie down. (With the way his fever had been spiking, England honestly didn't think it was just an excuse. His flushed and pale complexion merely strengthened that conviction.)

"I'm not sure that went as well as it could have." France murmured, as the bedroom door closed behind Al.

"He's probably thinking that it's a hallucination brought on by fever." England sighed into his tea, "Or that we're completely mad."

But he was alive, and where England had held his hand beneath the table, he could faintly feel the pulse of a heart beating strongly. America was alive, and England could only be happier if …

"I am working on proof." France said quietly, "But it will take some time."

The soft knock and opening of the suite's outer door interrupted any questions that England might have, as one of the human group reentered.

"Hello, Monsieur. Bonnefoy, Mr. Kirkland." The female physician whom England barely remembered from last night greeted them, "Alain go back to bed?"

"Yes, he- still wasn't feeling well." England gave up on the tea, pushing it aside. "I thought I told you to call me Arthur, Rachel. And I believed you were going to go on the tour with your group-"

"All right then, Arthur. You can call me Rae- Al does." The American chuckled, "I visited Japan before the bombings. I think I'd prefer to keep my memories intact. It may be prettier now, but I thought it was wonderful then."

"You are older than you appear," France observed, "If I may be so bold."

"I don't mind." Rae said with a casual shrug, "I wear my crown of silver with pride- age and experience wins over youth and ignorance most days. Besides, someone had to do the paperwork with the embassies."

"Paperwork?" France was frowning slightly, England could tell. "Kiku cleared you to stay as long as you needed to..."

"It's a good thing he did- even if by some miracle Al is a hundred percent better by tomorrow morning, we can't go to Korea as planned. They've revoked our visas." Perturbed. That would describe that expression. England had seen it on America's face when something unexpected and disagreeable happened. "Actually, they've revoked the visas of every single American in both Mainland China and Korea."

"What the fuck is Yao playing at?" England wondered softly, barely keeping the growl out of his voice, "Why would he-"

"Later, mon cher." France warned him, "At least, the others will be able to relax a bit before returning home."

"It's disappointing." Rae frowned, "We were prepared to help, and came all this way, only to be turned away at the last minute. Like we were some sort of plague. Well, at least on the bright side, they didn't have to shoot our plane down to keep us away."

The very idea gave England chills.

"How much information have you gotten from home since you arrived?" France asked carefully.

"Just a little—some big announcement about a special vote on merging, and China putting pressure on the States for money. You'd think they'd realize that most of us are still digging out- our group's major asset is our people. Engineers like Rob, or doctors, like Al and me. We have the know-how, and a few supplies donated by people in several countries."

The anger was rising again. Yao was making Alfred sick, putting him in more danger. It was a blessing that Matthew hadn't been in the room for yet another reminder... England frowned, glancing towards the bedroom.

"You should check on him, mon petit lapin." It was as though France were reading his mind. "And calm yourself. Everyone will do what they can, once we have assembled. Perhaps, Madame médecin , we can talk about where you learned my language- your accent is lovely."

England rolled his eyes, but left Rachel to France's charms, knocking softly at the door before slipping in.

At first glance, he could see that the room was empty, and nearly panicked. Until the sound of running water wormed its way into his perceptions. The bathroom- a shower- but-

The sound halted, and the door opened. Al stepped out, looking more refreshed, damp, and wearing nothing but the pair of sleep-trousers that he'd had on earlier. For the moment he seemed to be unaware that anyone else was in the room, so England had the opportunity to see how America had been-

The thoughts froze in his mind as Al turned to shut the light in the bathroom off, and England could see the full extent of the damage.

Miss Nettie hadn't been exaggerating about how badly burned Al had been. The visible scars were thick, and uneven along his back, his shoulders- parts of his arms had none of the tanned smooth expanses that England remembered so well, could remember touching and- they disappeared below the waistline of the trousers, leaving England to wonder how much _more_ there was.

Fuck the land and the people, this was Alfred. Arthur hadn't been there for him through all of the pain, the healing, the recovery- he'd been so far away and detached. Yes, England had done more good for America by staying at home and taking care of necessary things, things that would aid his people, but- as Arthur, with all too human emotional frailties, he could almost feel his heart breaking again.

"A-arthur-" startled blue eyes met his, and suddenly Alfred's colour deepened to a darker red as he stumbled his way to the bed, half curling in on himself. Trying to hide the scars. "I didn't hear you come in- I-"

"It's all right, Al." Arthur sighed softly, and took the last few steps into the room, reaching out to steady America. Who flinched at his touch. Of course. "I should have realised, and prepared myself. I-"

"I don't need pity." Al spoke low and quiet, "I understand that it looks- horrible. But I don't need to be pitied."

"I'm not." England kept the tremble in his voice away with an effort. "We all have scars, we have all seen horrible things, but … I don't pity you, Alfred, I—"

"Then why..."

"I am not pitying you, love." Arthur said quietly, reaching a hand out to trace the horrible pattern on the arm closest to him. "I understand that bad things happen. Horrible things. I just wish I could've been there for you- I know how it is, to be alone and in pain."

"You're..." Al was blinking back tears. The emotional vulnerability that came with illness was coming to the forefront, "I don't understand."

In response, England merely unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the flesh underneath, and the scars that the Blitz had left carved into him.

"They're not as bad as yours," England said quietly, pulling the other man's hand to touch them. "I was alone, however, with only the comfort of my memories of better days. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Except maybe – well. Not even France. All Nations bear scars, and they do fade with time- but they never vanish entirely. I don't know why your memories are gone, but perhaps that is just another scar that will fade..."

"Arthur..." The expression on Al's face was tender, "I feel as though I've fallen into Alice's rabbit hole... everything is just so surreal, and yet-"

"And yet?"

"You're real. Everything else seems so impossible and illogical, and yet, you're here. And I- we were lovers." A flush to the skin bared to England, so unlike America, and yet so like him. "And I can believe that, because..."

"Because?"

"I- I think I love you. From the time we met, I just- it's never been like this before. You're the special someone I've been waiting for."

Heart surging, England leaned up to kiss America's forehead. Then his cheek, followed by a light brush against his lips, before resting against the crook of his neck. Al's arms circled around him once again, pulling him close. So much had changed, and yet some things remained the same.

"Al," England murmured, "I do love you, no matter what. I'm staying with you from now on, so just hold on. We'll keep you safe."

V^*V*^*V*^

The noise levels in the hotel's corridors grew by a few decibels every time another Nation arrived.

France had peeked into the suite's bedroom after the lovely doctor (A shame she was American in a way, however right now France couldn't begrudge the boy a single citizen.) only to find England propped up against the head of the bed half dozing off with America sound asleep on his lap. Such a sweet sight might give one cavities- but all the same, Francis snapped a picture with his cell phone before closing the door quietly behind him.

They would be waking soon, most likely, or he would have to wake them when Germany arrived. From the staccato arguments and scattered conversations, no one was really certain why this meeting had been called about America, and some were downright angry about it.

There was no sign of China, nor was there a glimpse of either of the Koreas to be found. (Not that anyone expected either North or South Korea to appear anyway. China, however...) Faced with boredom, France set off to find an old friend or two to pass the time.

Before he could find Spain, or more importantly, Prussia, a familiar _presence _registered upon his senses, sending a chill running down his spine. France found the fleeting thought of finding the nearest hiding spot appealing, but futile, as the soft voice behind him called a greeting.

"France." Russia said in that slightly ominous, yet friendly tone. (How the hell he did it, no one was quite certain, but it made France's skin crawl_.) _"I wonder about the purpose of this meeting. Little America is supposedly dead, and his lands are, as he would have said 'fair game'. Perhaps you could enlighten me."

"Enlighten you?" France tried keeping the tone light, "Perhaps you could enlighten me. China is still your … ally, is he not?"

"He is." Violet eyes glinted with an unamused light, "And he has stumbled upon information that hints at your collusion with America. You pressured Germany into calling this meeting because you wish to keep your secrets. I understand this, but I cannot allow it."

"My... collusion?" France shifted nervously, while trying to keep the movement subtle- showing Russia how uncomfortable he was becoming at this sudden accusation was something to avoid. As much as the larger Nation pretended not to see the discomfort, he would read it, and that was something that Francis didn't need right now. "You can't be serious. I have only offered relief aid to the American people, and nothing more."

"And your little pet organization- it is above suspicion, is it not? No one would question the benevolent charity of a doctor or engineer." Russia loomed impressively, "You made two mistakes. First was placing him among the physicians, and second was including passport photographs of the staff. We know he is alive, and operating under that foolish alias. How long have the two of you been planning this?"

"Planning?" France was grappling at the words. And the implications- "You saw the photograph, and-"

"Yes, the visa office for Korea is in Bejing, and he forwarded them to me."

"There has been no collusion, Russia." France regained his sensibilities, vaguely aware of the sudden silence around them, ears listening carefully to his words. "Only an ending to a long search of a brother and a lover."

"Yes, that search that has spanned a decade." Russia said, in that childish voice, "Why did you not tell the world? Why have you kept such a thing from his allies- most of them are here without knowing. There is something not right with this situation, comrade, and the fact that he was attempting to sneak into another country under an assumed name-"

"There are explanations, Russia." France shook his head, "Will China be joining us?"

"Momentarily. He is flying in from his new lands. His flight should land within the hour."

"That is something that we need to discuss with him." France glanced at the suddenly curious faces peering at him while trying to act as though they were not curious. "We wouldn't have had to call everyone here, had he not cut off contact-"

"For his own safety, France." Russia just smiled at him, one hand suddenly pinning Francis against the corridor wall by his throat- he hadn't even seen the large Nation move. "And if we find that your explanations are lacking-"

The fingers would surely leave bruises- and scarves were so out of fashion.

"Russia," Canada's voice _echoed_ in the hallway, "Remove your hand from France's throat. This is not the time, nor is it the place for you to start yet another conflict. We have things to discuss, and I'm certain making China jealous is not going to make him listen any better."

The grip was removed slowly, but the promise of violence in violet eyes remained.

"I am open to discussion." The large Nation said, glancing at the assorted others who were now pretending that they hadn't been listening, hadn't seen anything- "However your brother needs to be here to answer for what he has done. He will be at the conference, da?"

V^*V*^*V*^

Rumors and whispers of rumors assailed Japan as he hobbled down the corridor towards the conference room. In some, America had swooped in and rescued France from Russia's clutches in the nick of time, and resumed their unspoken rivalry. Others said that America was in hiding, waiting for a moment (That none of them could agree upon) to burst in, and resume the war with Korea that they'd all thought long over. There were more versions of the scene in the hallway that both France and Canada had described to him.

His time with Germany had been brief, but informational. (Italy had not arrived at that point, thankfully, so the story had been told without interruption.) Oddly enough, Prussia hadn't arrived with his brother, and so, after the bare facts as Japan knew them had been laid out, Germany excused himself to call the missing Ex-Nation.

Leaving Japan to make his way back towards the suite where he hoped the Nation in question was resting peacefully. The rest, while it wouldn't make the symptoms vanish, would go a long way towards keeping them from getting worse. The young one would, perhaps, be able to handle meeting more of the chaotic gathering tomorrow. At least meeting those whom they could trust- the situation with Russia could prove to be a problem, if he was even half as demanding as Francis had mentioned.

It worried him, however, that the largest Nation was calling for America to 'answer for what he had done', and implied that China would do the same.

North Korea had started the war, left America in shreds and tatters, and they had expected him not to fight back? To not strike blindly when he was that badly wounded, and falling?

Or perhaps they just meant the current situation, which they did not- could not- know the whole of. In order to prove that he was innocent of wrong in his recent actions, they would have to expose Alain England to the world, to the possibility that someone would use that naivete to steal what little power he had left, and harm him. If they even believed him.

A moment of frustration made Japan's lips twitch in irritation.

They had their friend back- even if not everyone liked America, they had needed him at some point, and the youth had most certainly tried his best to be everyone's friend, to the point where it had strained his exuberant grin to nearly the breaking point. Al was back, alive, and the world was still the world, with all the backstabbing, double-dealing and outright hostility with which he had left it.

Japan almost envied Alain England's life, without the complications of these international relationships.

The sound of loud voices in a small corridor reached him as he exited the lift, and started down the corridor towards the suite. Another frown. What could be causing such a disturbance that would surely awaken America. And then Japan realised that the shouting was coming from the very suite he was heading towards, and that the voices themselves were very familiar.

China.

For a moment he forgot about the throb of his sprained ankle, and ran to the door, pushing his way past two trembling figures who quailed at the sight of him. Why did these two need to push this now? Why force the issue when the entire world was assembled-

He paused at the scene inside the suite's living area.

The atmosphere was, in a word, hostile.

Russia was mostly gathering points in impressive looming, while Lithuania was kneeling by France, who was struggling to sit up among the wreckage of the table and chairs. Canada stood between China and the bedroom door, the vicious expression upon his face making Japan glad that Germany hadn't followed him.

"You can wait until the meeting, China, or you can test my patience." The words were almost growled. "And with what you've started, I'd prefer the latter."

"I will speak with him, and I will do it now. You have protected him for far too long, Canada."

"If by 'speak' you mean 'Beat the shit out of', I think I have a right to protect him. We just found him, and we're not giving him up that easily."

"Throttling him hardly counts as a beating, Canada." China tensed as Canada twitched as though he were about to take that first step forward. "And for your part in his deception, I should include you as well."

"China." Japan dropped any sort of honorific as he made his presence known. "You of all people should remember how many rules of etiquette you are violating right now. This is not the time nor is this the place for your personal vendettas. Any issues you have with America will be discussed tomorrow, in the conference."

"You are protecting him as well." China's face was full of anger, righteous indignation. Accusation "When will you stop? When this spoiled child burns one of your cities to the ground?"

The look on Japan's face must have given China the hint that he'd gone too far.

"Go back to your room, China. And you as well, Russia." The large Nation had remained a silent presence, "Before I remind you of whose lands your feet are touching. America may be at the meeting tomorrow- if he is well enough, and if those who are caring for him deem him to be able. You have already done enough damage both now, and in the past."

China seemed to wilt as he backed down, letting Russia trail him as he exited with only a single backwards glance.

Russia, however, paused to give Japan one of the childish smiles.

"Tomorrow, we will see what truths there are to be had," was all he said before he left.

With the tension relieved for now, there were some audible sighs from the rest of the room- and the sound of a door opening.

"They're gone?" England's voice preceded the sight of his old friend with a pistol in hand, as he stood in the doorway. "Everyone is all right?"

"Alive, for the moment," France answered, from where he was leaning on Lithuania. Why had the Baltic nation stayed— Oh. That was right. He had been a close friend to America. It was more surprising that Russia hadn't intimidated him out. "And our Alain?"

"I'm fine." Right behind England, the boy in question was standing, a bit of a wary look towards the gun in the older Nation's hand. "What was that about, Arthur?"

"Somehow, after seeing your passport photo, as France did, the pair of them got the idea that you were trying to sneak into Korea under an assumed name to do harm to the personification and his lands."

"But that's ridiculous. For one thing, I'm a doctor- I took an oath. I help people, I don't hurt them. And for another, how would I know that I was dealing with one of them if I don't know what they look like?"

"They... haven't been informed of your circumstances." Japan took it upon himself to answer, as England was watching Lithuania with a hint of suspicion. "Is France..."

"What circumstances are those?" Lithuania led France to a chair that had survived the minor conflict. "Mr. America, I'm glad to see you are alive."

"I- er..." Al smiled at the other Nation. "It's nice to meet you..."

The expressions changed with the realisations from both parties: America that he'd said something that the other found wrong, and Lithuania, that his old friend had no idea who he was.

"I see." Lithuania's faint smile turned to a bit of a worried frown, "You can call me Toris, Al."

"Ah!" Alfred's smile grew, and he crossed the room to France's side, professionally evaluating what bumps and bruises he could see. Just like he had at the aeroport. "Flu aside, these past two days have been better than Christmas."

Toris's eyes went a bit wide as he watched Al softly ask France a few questions- in his own language- nod smartly, and peer into the other Nation's eyes. Japan had seen this before- when Dr. England was on duty, apparently, he spoke whatever language his patient felt most comfortable with. And with France...

"As far as I can tell, you don't have a concussion- I usually deal with younger patients. When Rae gets back, let her take a look at that bump. No external bleeding, we'll just get some ice on it, and keep you awake for a bit."

"Alfr-" Lithuania started, then stopped, "So you really are..."

Innocent blue eyes gazed back at them, as Japan observed from the same spot he'd occupied during the end of the argument.

"He's a doctor." England finally spoke. "And a good one, from what his colleagues report. Now we just have to convince China that he is, that he isn't trying to sneak around, and to leave him alone so we can figure out what to do next."

"Why not tell them the truth?" Al stood on his own, bearing much the same as Japan remembered, stubborn. Strong. And yet there was a lightness about him... "What's wrong with that?"

"Because if they knew that you couldn't remember, they would try and take advantage." England said with a reluctance that was almost tangible. "And none of us want to see you hurt or destroyed."

The last was said with a significant look towards Lithuania, who shook his head quickly.

"But..." Alfred was confused. Angry. "You don't trust that I could make good judgments about people? That just because I don't- you've told me what you think I am, and I know enough history to fake it for a little bit. Do you seriously think-"

"Mon cher, calmez." France said with sigh, "You don't remember some of the important things, and that can be dangerous. Like the annexation movement-"

"What about it? Could it-" The light went on for a moment, "Seriously. It could-"

"Yeah." Canada finally spoke, back to the soft voice, which would have been barely heard if he were in a crowd. "It could. America- Al- I don't know what would happen, but I don't want to lose you again, especially not like that."

"Al-kun," Japan finally found a voice, "You should rest for tonight. China may have left your shores for now, but you will need time to recuperate. Trust us, please. We do not wish to chain you, or clip your wings. Some know better than others what the results of that will be- however right now, as much as you do not want it, you need us, as we have needed you in the past. In order for you to stand on your own once more, you must have help."

England had looked away, obviously a bit emotional- Japan would allow him his dignity. And Matthew- desperately looking as though he wanted to cling to his brother, smother him, perhaps.

"Mr. Ameri- Alfred..." Lithuania was reaching out a hand to Al, "You are a physician. You understand the concepts more than you really want to admit. If a patient is having difficulty breathing on his own, one does not allow him to run marathons- You work to find the problems, and give him the help he needs until he is in a condition to walk again. Let us help you to find that stability before those like Russia and China force you to run."

Al blinked, and looked to his feet for a moment before reaching back.

"I hadn't quite thought of that." Al said quietly, and calmly, "I suppose... being a country is a lot different than being an ordinary human, isn't it? Thank you, Toris."

"You are most welcome, my friend." Lithuania pulled Al in for a quick embrace. "Do not let my association with Russia fool you, England. While I may be under his control, my heart remains free. I will always care and worry about my friends."

"And if Russia or China asks-"

"I will tell them nothing of this, only that America is as I remember him- honest, fair, and brilliant."

The look of chagrin on the faces of Canada and the European Nations was a bit telling. Had none of them (including himself, Japan could not leave himself out) noticed that America wasn't as dim as he seemed?

"Thank you, Toris." Canada said, at last. "We need to discuss what to do about tomorrow. At this point, everyone is going to want to see him- now that they know he's alive."

"Indeed." Japan agreed, "And as soon as I get someone to replace your furniture, we can hold a conference of our own."

Things were still complicated where America was involved, and it seemed they would continue to be so.

Japan found he didn't mind a bit.


	9. Chapter 9

Sleep had been hard to come by, after the others left, but England had managed to grab snatches of slumber throughout the night. It had helped greatly to have the familiar warmth beside him, fingers barely touching beneath the coverlet. The comforting sound of America snoring softly.

Alain had insisted on sharing his bed.

He'd thrown the snoring at Alfred a few times- complained about how the noise had awakened him- usually when they were arguing. But now- now it was only a gentle reassurance that this wasn't a dream.

He swore silently never to complain again, never to argue with America again- even though he knew it would inevitably happen despite his wishes.

But then, they would always make up afterwards.

And in those sporadic waking moments, England could only make wishful plans that included taking America away from the rest of the Nations, where he would make love to the young man, spend days kissing him, holding him- showing him everything all over again.

But first they had to get through the meeting, find some way to keep him alive.

There was no real consensus upon what actions could be taken to permanently solve the problem, though France had mentioned something about 'working his contacts', and with the silent eye-roll that Canada had given him, England hadn't taken it seriously.

In the end, they'd just agreed that Alain would stay with England (Not that England was bloody likely to let him out of sight, which was fine by the boy- it gave him an excuse to hold Arthur's hand in public, he'd muttered into England's ear.

England felt his face flush almost immediately. Throwing a glare at France's amused face was merely a bonus.)

That way, if there were any questions thrown at Alain that he couldn't answer, England would be there to supply the answers, prompt him- keep him from being obviously unaware. And at his other side, when duty allowed them, Canada and Lithuania would attempt to keep the both of them out of trouble.

Japan would be making arrangements, as the host of the meeting- watching over their safety with his own people. France...

Had repeated his story about an idea, and that he needed a bit more time, to speak with a few more Nations (who could be trusted, promised Francis, if for no other reason than they wanted to go home and have nothing more to do with this conference) and perhaps Canada's input.

With no reason to mistrust what he said, they'd split to rest.

And now, fifteen minutes past the time the meeting had been scheduled to start, England was wondering why he'd ever trusted that damned Frog.

Alain's hand was clasped firmly in England's own. Little twitches betrayed his nervousness.

The whispers had paused as they entered the room together. Unrestrained stares from most, but with a few notable exceptions:

Germany had merely given Alain a once over, and a nod. Switzerland gave him a quick appraising look, while Lichtenstein just smiled shyly at him. Russia seemed to be studying America carefully, while China was looking as though he were ready to leap up and finish what he'd attempted last night.

The rest were a mix of curiosity, disappointment, and the occasional joyful smile.

" A bit of a hostile crowd." Alain murmured into his ear. "There are a few that look like they wanted me to be a fake. I almost wish I was, with the way they're staring daggers at me."

"You-" England started for a moment, but then remembered. "Keep smiling. You've never … wanted to read the atmosphere before, and most of them think that you can't. It will look odd if you notice anything."

"If this is normal, I can understand why." Alain shuddered, and forced a faint smile onto his face. "Where's Mattie?"

"He's right-" Oh. Wait. He hadn't noticed that Canada had either not arrived, or slipped out. The bite of nostalgic shame rose for a moment. "Bloody hell."

"Happens often?" The hand in his tightened, as Germany called for order, sending those who had seemed to think about approaching to various seats. His own should be next to America's, courtesy of Japan. "He's very quiet most of the time."

"Quite." England murmured, "Or he's mistaken for you."

Al's thoughtful frown was out of place for America.

"I doubt that's happened in the past decade, however, and in the future- well, that remains to be seen." England could almost feel the gazes of the world upon America. Metaphorically or not, all eyes were on the young man next to him. "Germany knows, and will not call upon you for answers that you don't know."

"And the rest-"

"Will keep a respectful distance, I hope."

The attendance was read, with a long pause for France, and a short and curious one for Canada.

"Mattie really doesn't get noticed much, does he?" Al murmured softly, even as Germany called Japan to the podium.

"That's longer than the pauses he used to get." England returned, "Until you- well. He's more vocal now- and Germany knew he was meant to be here."

"Where is he though? And Francis-"

"We shall see." England patted Al's hand under the table, and the both settled back to politely listen to Japan.

"As you know, the world has changed in the past two decades. Much has been lost, and but a little regained." Japan's dark gaze was upon all of the assembled Nations. "A war was fought and ended before either side could formally declare it. Treaties were violated, and a Nation was laid nearly to its foundations, and another was nearly lost."

There was some muttering from the end of the table where Russia and China were glaring darkly at Al.

"As of this moment, there are sixteen protocols that were agreed to upon the end of the last century that are being violated by a member of this meeting. The invasion or hostile takeover of another Nation's lands is strictly prohibited without just cause- especially when said Nation is recovering from a monumental disaster- and the actions will be condemned by the United Alliance who signed the treaty." Japan looked directly at China. "I move that said Nation and any ally to said Nation be censured until such time that troops are removed from those lands."

"Why do you not just speak plainly, Japan?" Ivan spoke without bothering to wait for acknowledgement. "The lands in question have been void of government, and merely an occupied territory for the past decade. The Nation has been dead since the first wave of bombs."

Al's hand tightened on England's. He'd noticed that it lacked that insane strength England had been accustomed to since America had been a child yesterday, however it was still nearly painful. A sidelong glance told him that the younger man was gazing at Russia with a sort of fearful fascination.

"That Nation would be The United States of America, and as he is sitting right next to England. It still does not excuse-"

"If that is even America." Russia smiled in that childlike way that always made England glad he was sitting on the opposite side of the room. "It could be Canada in disguise."

"We are certain of his identity, and taking steps to verify it. Canada has some … business that has cropped up and is seeing to it at the moment, he will join us shortly." Japan gave him a calm and neutral look. "Do you have anything to add?"

Russia just shook his head accompanied by murmurs from various parts of the room.

"Now that you've verified his identity," China's voice held little of the shrillness of anger that had marked it the evening before. "We can establish another fact. North Korea is my protectorate- and as his defences were shattered by that … hollow Nation there, I am completely responsible for his safety, and the safety of what is left of his lands, as his government and mine have come to a mutual agreement to do so. Am I correct?"

"You are." Japan conceded. "As Canada and England are responsible for the defence of America at the moment."

"And if another Nation, even a hollow one, were to begin to invade North Korea without permission, I am justified in defending him, correct?"

"If he were invaded, yes, you may defend. That does not excuse the offensive actions that you have taken against America."

"The plans were thwarted before they could be put into play- and I took the only action available to make certain that the governmentless fool was too busy to make another attempt." China spat, "And you speak for him still. Let him answer to me for his failed foolishness- he will not complete the destruction of North Korea, no matter what he desires."

Al's hand was shaking.

"But they asked us..." England heard him murmur. "We were going to help-"

"North Korea is still a disaster zone, is it not?" Japan said quietly, "You asked for help from one of France's organizations, and the people who answered your call were from all of us. It has been eleven years. America is healing, and his people, as always, are generous. Even to those who have struck him down before- if he could offer me his hand in aid and friendship so close after defeating me, after we hurt each other- what makes you think he wouldn't want to help North Korea as well?"

"He was attempting to come in stealthily, Japan." China growled softly. "America has never been known for subtlety in such matters. He is not a physician."

"You have not seen him for eleven years, China." Reminded Japan. "No one has."

"Or so his allies keep saying." The raven haired nation was standing now, "But it was France's organisation that harboured him. Smoothed the way for him to enter Korea's lands without the customary notifications-"

"There was no ill intent," Japan interrupted, the effort of impoliteness was obvious in his face. "America went with the aim of _helping_ Korea's lands, not harming him further."

"Then why not go through normal channels- and where has he been for the past decade?"

"Medical school, mostly." England answered for Japan, and for the silent man beside him. Was there truly a way to even escape revealing the whole situation? "Once he recovered, that is."

"Medical school." China said flatly, turning his gaze towards England. "And he didn't think to tell you that he was alive? Or were those years when you gazed at his chair with such hope and despair merely an act? Even when he separated from you, you did not remain wholly without communications. What is it that you are hiding? Or perhaps we should just ask him- normally it's impossible to shut him up- why is it when his answers are needed, he is silent?"

"Arthur," Al murmured.

"Al..." England looked over to where Al was giving him a slightly nervous glance. "Go ahead."

"I was at medical school." Al said, the familiar notes of confidence in his voice, without the old cockiness. "After I recovered from my injuries. And doing my residency. China, I really do want to help Korea. It doesn't matter to me what happened in the past. There are people who need the help of my team in the zone, and that's all that mattered. I know Ame- I'm not perfect, and have probably pissed you off in the past, but I came all this way to use my abilities to help the kids- to do some good for those who did not have anything to do with the war- only to be turned back at the gates. Do you know how many of them have sickened, and will die because of your paranoia?"

"Not as many as died in the bombings." China frowned, "You have no government, no boss to focus your strength, or show you a path. A Nation without leadership becomes vengeful, and chaotic."

"Not all," Germany said quietly, "Chaotic, yes, however Prussia has not shown any inclination towards targeting those who caused his dissolution. There is a certain madness that is expected when one loses one's leaders, but it is fleeting."

"I'm not looking for revenge," Al said quietly, hand tight in England's. "I'm looking for healing."

China stared at Al for a good long moment.

"If you are telling the truth, you are finally growing up." The eldest Nation seated himself once more, "However, you still have not explained yourself sufficiently. Why did you choose to secret yourself among a group of civilian aid workers, without informing me, or Korea's people of your intent? This discussion would have taken place far earlier, and you would have saved yourself from my wrath. And England- he has missed you for so long. Why did you stay away from him?"

The sudden lack of anger in China's tone unnerved England almost as much as the personal observation.

"First you think we knew about him being alive, and now you're accepting it?" England kept the note of bitterness to a minimum.

"We watched you, England," China shrugged gratuitously with a half nod towards Russia. "You came to meetings, you travelled very infrequently. You never met with America. Canada we were never certain of, as he frequently went where we had no one to inform us. France- we lost track of far too many times in his escapades, but we thought he might be too much a coward, until the photo appeared."

"Bloody hell," was all he could answer.

"I am still waiting the answer from America." China said calmly. "I will recall my people from O'ahu, if he tells me why he waited so long to return to us."

^*v*^*^*v*^^*v*^^*v*^^*v*^^*v*^

For the first time in a decade, France smiled so naturally and freely that it felt almost as wonderful as sunlight.

His contacts and phone calls were paying off- and his boss had agreed to his plan, if the rest of the pieces fell into place. Now everything depended upon Canada and his ability to convince his people to delay the vote upon annexation.

"Monsieur Bonnefoy!" The familiar voice called to him from the other end of the corridor. Rae waved to him, "You know where Dr. England is, right?"

"I am on my way to see him," France replied, watching as the woman approached, "Is there something wrong?"

"I just wanted to let him know that our group is being put on standby to fly out, whether or not he's coming with us." The troubled frown told him of her concern for Al's well-being. "He's got family with him right now, so if he isn't able to come, he will be fine. I wanted him to know, just in case we got the call before he got out of that meeting."

"Stand-by?" France frowned. "They are sending you home?"

"No- I'm surprised you haven't heard, with your international connections. There's been an earthquake in the vicinity of Pyongyang, all medical personnel in the vicinity are on alert, especially our organization." Rae frowned, "I don't know why they turned us away before, but now- now they're going to desperately need us. I don't think China can handle an emergency like this alone."

"Not with the state that the Koreas were in before now- Thank you, Rae. This may change everything- I will inform him. Korea will need your aid, and I am certain that Al will want to join you."

"Thank you, Francis."

Canada was waiting for him at the door to the meeting room, and gave him a tight smile before opening the door to a palpable tension.

"I will recall my people from O'ahu, if he tells me why he waited so long to return to us."

"I-" Al was looking a bit on the lost side as China was seated, poised to listen.

"There you are, you bloody Frog." England's eyes held a bit of desperation. "What took you so long?"

"I apologise for my tardiness," Francis gave an embellished bow. "But I had business that needed to be completed before my boss slumbered. Sadly, I must also be the bearer of ill news-"

England's eyes were on him, widening a fraction in a familiar terror.

"France..." Canada warned him. "Unfortunately we have new business to discuss, and we must do it swiftly, since immediate action is needed. There has been an earthquake in Pyongyang."

China was on his feet, as was Al.

"We've got to go then." Al was suddenly all serious. "My team can be ready to go in probably ten minutes. We've already got medical supplies on our craft- it should be fixed by now- we just need clearance-"

"Your team is on stand-by already." France said, listening to the sudden chaos among the Nations. Some were discussing the best way to get supplies into an earthquake ravaged area, others were talking of personnel and tactics- those with cell phones were starting to pull them out. "The plane is fine. The only thing needed is the permission of the consulate of China."

"You are still ill." China locked his dark eyes on Al, whose own blue gaze was steady as he looked back at the smaller man. "Would you truly go as you are?"

"I'm not contagious, so yes."

"You will have to pull those troops out, China." England said quietly, "Their hands will be needed."

"Arrangements will be made." China said at long last, breaking away from Al's determined look. "This business is not over, however. I will be watching you, America."

V*^*V*^*V*^*

China's last words had been most literal, Japan discovered, as he and seven of the other nations disembarked in the only remaining landing strip near the doubly devastated city.

China had insisted upon the Nations flying together, an arrangement that might have irritated the young doctor- however he showed none of that irritation, merely stayed next to England, without a murmured complaint for the entire flight. Upon landing, Al had sprinted towards his team, who were being met by a group of North Korea's people- those who knew best where physicians and engineers were needed.

England had made to follow, but China shook his head.

"If he is, as you say, a doctor, there will be nothing that you can do. If he intends harm, he will convict himself without your aid."

Russia silently agreed, looming over the rest of the group like a bad omen.

"I just got him back." England was watching as the group was further divided, each being led to a battered vehicle, while crates of supplies were loaded from their craft and onto the transports. The look upon his face was heartwarming "I will not lose him again."

"China, those of us who have suffered earthquakes before can be of help in setting up shelters. Those of us who have lived in such conditions can make ourselves useful as support." Japan put in quietly, not allowing the ominous feelings to sway him. "That is why many of us came. Our leaders will send supplies and hands, however while we await their arrival..."

"That is true." China conceded. "I have not heard from North Korea's guardians, however-"

"He was here? In this city?"

"One's capitol is the best place to heal." China gave a grand shrug, and headed towards the trucks. "Which is why it is usually the place that the enemy seeks to destroy first."

"You are the oldest of us, China." England spoke, his eyes not moving from his Al. Japan could hardly blame him- "And you have seen much. What is the effect upon the Nation when his capitol is laid to the ground, and his people seek to leave him?"

Why was England asking such a question? The tiny frown grew on Japan's face. Did he want China to learn that there was something wrong-

"We exist as long as our people want us, England." China's gaze followed Al with a hint of something that Japan could almost name as sorrow. "Losing our capitol hurts the most, not because of any physical blow, but because of the chaos that it triggers. They are not our hearts- but they _are_ a piece of our existence- our soul. Without a capitol, there is no center, no organisation. No sanctuary. Oftentimes it is enough to become considered a death-blow. The people are demoralised, and give up, becoming one with the conqueror. It is a lingering process, where the Nation usually dies after a slow bleeding out of people and lands."

"You thought he was dying." Japan said softly, voicing a thought that had occurred. "That his people are leaving him, and the ideals that created him. You believed that he was looking for vengeance- to go out with a 'bang', as he always seemed he would... but now you are not certain."

"America, for most of his existence has made his own rules." China was now watching England, whose face had gone a shade paler than before. "There will always be some who will identify themselves as his, even as Prussia has his scattered peoples, shared with many nations. Our people are our strength, and our life. Some Nations embrace the sharing, others cannot bear it, and let go."

"So, in the end, it will be his decision." England spoke in a tight voice. "Whether to dissolve, or ..."

"He is healthier than I expected." Russia murmured from behind, where he had been nearly forgotten. "And nearly as cheerful as I remembered. Happier than most would be with their country in ruins."

"Yes..." China trailed off.

Japan gave England a sidelong glance.

"He has always had a sunny disposition." England said shortly, and strode towards the truck that Al was standing beside.

"He is hiding something." Japan heard China murmur to Russia. "I do not like this."

"China," Japan spoke quietly as well. "America-kun has nearly always made his own rules, but he his motives have always been easy to read. He would not spend nearly a decade on learning how to heal, if he only intended on killing."

China merely frowned, and made a gesture towards the couple embracing a half dozen meters away.

"That is yet to be seen. I will go with them. You-"

"I will go where I am needed, Yao-san." Japan watched the honorific confuse China for a moment. "However, if my friend is in danger, I will be but a step away."


	10. Chapter 10

The north side of the city was hot and humid, the skies threatening to bring more rain to the already unstable earth that even now rumbled with the occasional aftershock.

England had found himself a position along the front of the effort to dig out those who were still trapped under tons of steel. Without real experience in digging out from an earthquake (He'd had so few of his own) he'd been afraid that he would be separated from Al- sent to manage the tent city that had been erected in what was once a park. He hadn't though, they'd needed strong hands- even China was moving brick and stone. From their positions, they could watch as the young doctor bounded from place to place, checking in with groups here and there- (there had been precious few children in this area, and Al had been on paramedic duty to make sure those rescuing wouldn't fall themselves.)

And then an adult they had pulled from the rubble had told them of a daycare in the area-

(In Korean, and Al had easily understood and answered without even noticing the switch in language. China had noticed, however, and England merely prayed that he wouldn't put things together-)

The sudden call from a few hundred meters away sent a flurry of new activity.

"I hear tapping." A woman was calling, "And some crying- I think we found 'em."

China was the first of the three present Nations to arrive on the scene. Rather than giving orders, the elder was taking them, shifting rubble as the woman directed, helping remove a steel girder, a piece of fence-

When England got there, they were down to brightly coloured bricks, and very soon, dark eyes blinking in the sudden light of a cloudy afternoon.

"Is everyone all right?" Al's voice asked out of nowhere. Somehow the tall boy had managed to slip in among the workers unnoticed. The woman who was currently boosting children out through the hole that had been made in their little bubble said something in Korean that England couldn't quite understand.

"Shit." Al replied with a rapid stream of the same language, then, as the woman moved away from the opening, slipped through before anyone could stop him.

"Wait- it's not-" the rescue team's leader couldn't even get the words out before the flash of Al's brightly coloured shirt vanished. The young woman with the dark eyes had disappeared as well.

"What is he doing?" someone exclaimed, "They need to exit- it is not a stable structure- if another earthquake hits, or the rubble shifts-"

As if on cue, England could feel the tell-tale vibrations coming up through the soles of his feet, making him feel almost dizzy.

"Al- " He lunged towards the opening, but China had a firm grip on his shoulder. "Let me the fuck go- I won't-"

"You can't help him by getting hurt yourself, England." China frowned, "And it is not as though he has not lived through worse- and even if he doesn't, this will only be an inconvenience."

"Yes, but-" England stopped abruptly. He couldn't utter the words that had nearly come out. That the discussion of what sorts of injuries they could heal from had not come up in the brief time that they'd had. Alain would believe he could die- he would be frightened and-

It seemed to last forever, and again, all England could do was wait and watch.

Again he couldn't be there.

The aftershock died away, leaving the team to gather again, and re-open the collapsed building in an all too human hope that the pair below had survived.

"But what, England? The woman that was with him was in more danger than he was, with his stupid heroics." China had not let go England's arm just yet. "Unless his people and his lands were just swallowed by the seas, you have not lost him- Why are you so over concerned?"

There was yelling from the team working with the debris, and England gave a tug at his arm.

"While you are questioning me, we could be helping to shift that rubble. You know America has never done well with being trapped." Dark eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"We are not done, _old friend_." Yao hissed, "As soon as we get him out, we are going to discuss this in the privacy of -"

More yelling from the men and women at the opening, and a dark haired woman was being lifted out of the hole, and carried away by medical personnel despite a vocal protest, and a desperate hand reaching back towards her prison, where a second figure was being carefully lifted- wrapped in a shredded and bloodstained shirt that England recognized immediately.

But it was far far too small to be Alain.

China's gaze was still on the shirt-wrapped figure when England pulled away, heading to where a shirtless Alain was being helped out of the tiny hole that they'd managed to get the others through.

The scars were bared to the dim light, despite the coating of dirt and blood that smeared his chest- and yet England couldn't help thinking that again, Al was a sight that he could never tire of seeing. He was smiling faintly, however, his focus was upon the brightly wrapped bundle that the medics were taking towards the tent hospital.

"Al?" England reached a hand out to him, "Are you-"

"Fine, Arthur," Alain murmured, "I have a patient. I'll talk to you after we get her stabilised."

And again, England was forced to step back and wait.

"He does seem to be dedicated to this new profession," China's voice was low, and next to his ear. "The young teacher said he was fearless, and immediately shielded the both of them from any debris that fell. That he moved the wall that was trapping the child with an inhuman strength, and nearly carried them both back to the opening once the trembling subsided."

"Do you expect less than fearlessness from America?" England asked swiftly, not even thinking about the questions that this had brought into his mind. "Strength, and heroics."

"It is not what you expected, is it?" China refused to look at him, instead watching the far tent where Al had disappeared. "He was not what I expected either. Those scars..."

"What did you expect, after North Korea tried to kill him? The body of a newborn babe?"

"Aiyah, so hostile." China had a grip on his arm, and this time, England knew he couldn't avoid it. "We must talk, with or without the young doctor."

^*V*^*V*

Stories of hope and courage tended to fly faster among the camps and rescue parties that lay along the riverbank, than any other. As though the rumours were trying to keep the spirits of those who had flown to North Korea's aid high.

It was working, Japan noted, though the most recent whispers were starting to grab his attention- particularly when the description of the hero involved matched with that of a certain American.

There were, however, rumours mixed in with those of heroic deeds which included a tiny digital image passed along by one of the French aid workers to some of the Japanese, and finally to Kiku, of the selfsame American looking rather battered and bloody-

Making his excuses to his team and comrades, Japan trekked the three miles seaward to the place where he knew Al to be. By the time he arrived, however, it was dark, and the tent that he was shown to did not contain the being that he had set out to find.

In the carefully flickering firelight, the two figures turned as one to see Japan slipping in. As custom, Japan took in the atmosphere and the signs before speaking: England was not noticeably upset- he was irritated, yes. Perhaps a low level of anxiety, but the teacup sitting in front of him on the camp table was untouched- full, and cold, as though it had been sitting there for hours.

China was sitting across from him, a short stack of papers in front of him, and an inscrutable long-suffering look upon his face. His tea cup was empty. So they had been sitting here together...

"China," Japan inclined his head carefully. "England. My apologies for appearing uninvited. I heard a distressing rumour, substantiated by a picture- "

"I see." China answered, while England remained stubbornly silent. "America is in surgery right now."

"Ah." Japan allowed a faint smile to appear. He would fall into no traps set. "So the doctor is at work."

"I had thought his credentials questionable at first, but from all accounts he has been quite professional. For his sake, I hope the child survives." China made a show of clearing away the plastic cups. "England is being quite helpful in my quest to find out just how our hero became so humble."

England subtly shook his head as Japan glanced his way.

China suspected, yes, but England had told him nothing.

"Perhaps you would care for some tea?" China made the offer, with far more politeness than Japan had expected. "Sit down, while we wait for our young friend."

"Very well," Japan answered in similar vein. "Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the reason behind your words. For his sake?"

"America has never taken failure very well in the past. I would prefer he be amiable to talking, rather than avoiding the issue." China poured a fresh cup for Japan, and then for himself. "England?"

"Not bloody likely."

"You do realise that I will find out eventually, whether you tell me or not- his team may not be willing or able to speak of it, but there is something-"

"Bloody hell, China!" England nearly exploded. "He's been to hell and back, and he's proven that he's sincere. Why can't you leave him the fuck alone?"

"He owes me." China said simply, taking a sip of his tea. "And it isn't just about the money. He lost face when he fell, a fairly satisfying event. Taken out by someone he hadn't considered a big enough threat- however in all the chaos that followed the initial strikes, there were others lined up to continue to tear him apart. Your intervention would have been meaningless at that point."

"So what you are saying, is that you prevented the wolves from tearing apart what was left of a proud nation." Japan suddenly connected the debt, "You weren't just aiding North Korea-"

"I would hardly call them wolves. More like puppies with the delusion of glory. We did not need another global conflict, Russia and I agreed upon that much."

"You were ready to kill him in Tokyo. Suspicious and paranoid- if you were truly helping, why-" England's eyes were still upon China, green fire lighting them again. He was angry, Japan knew, and restraining himself with effort. "You thought he was dead, then you thought he was trying to further harm Kil-Dong. Your attitudes and moods have changed more often in these past few days than … than..."

"Eleven years ago, I was angry at both North Korea, and America. There was no need for this split second war- however, America- Alfred was once my ally. A friend, and business partner. He was a clumsy, yet somewhat likeable boy with the best of intentions, and that memory was what prompted me to honour his passing by preventing him from being torn apart any further." Yao gave England that intense gaze, now ignoring Japan. "And his family and friends also refrained from making certain that Hong Kil-Dong was shattered beyond healing."

"We would hardly continue a war on a Nation left vulnerable. The war was over, and America was lost, his people needed help. Canada and Mexico were injured." Japan spoke quietly, "There was enough blood shed that day."

"I agree." China frowned, "However, this has not gone how I was hoping it would. Perhaps I should have allowed Russia to question you."

"I wouldn't have told him any more than I told you, Yao." England touched his cold teacup, pushing it away from himself. "I don't want to lose him again. That is all."

"It's more than that, England." China sat back in his chair. "Your reactions have been off. His reactions are different than I had expected. Your question from a few days ago... Is it true that his people have begun a move to merge with Canada?"

The stress was too much for England's voice, apparently, because he only nodded.

"And Washington DC is laid to the ground, uninhabitable for generations." Not a question.

"There was a direct hit..." Japan answered, seeing the tension in England's jaw. Arthur, trying to be strong, even as memories of that horrible time were rekindled. "Do you have a point?"

"He seems particularly strong for one who has been struck a deathblow. More mature, less inclined to hide things for their own sake." China said slowly, his eyes still on England. "It is a curiosity."

Japan blinked suddenly, allowing his gaze to meet China's.

"The vote will be against annexation." He allowed the smile to curve his lips faintly. "America is still strong, still unwilling to bend to the will of another Nation."

"Kiku..." England's voice was almost raw with emotion. "We don't know the future."

"We may not know the future, however the resistance that I encountered in Hawai'i was not that of a people ready to give up." China gave England a faint smile. "Does that relieve your fear of watching him fade away in the next few days?"

"England... Arthur..." Japan spoke quietly, watching the mixed emotions play across the blond's face. "He has always been too strong and stubborn to listen to anyone if he believes he knows what is right. I … wonder if keeping secrets is doing more harm, than good."

"Perhaps." The faint smile was worth the risk of offence at the reference to America's past. "Perhaps we should trust you, Yao."

"I would be honoured and delighted to be trusted once again." Humour flashed in brown eyes. "Now-"

"Arthur?" The American doctor- Rachel, was it?- had made a sound at the tent flap before sticking her head through the opening. "I apologize for interrupting- they said you would be here."

How unfortunate.

"It's all right. What did you need Rae?"

"Well. You." The silver-haired woman looked as exhausted as the rest of the workers. "It's Al-"

England was on his feet and heading towards the door before she could complete her sentence.

"- he needs you."

"When a pained half-heart calls, the other half must answer." China said softly. "Things didn't go well. You can see it in her voice, in her posture."

"It might be for the best. Al needs England. England needs to see Al." Japan turned back to the table. "And I can answer some of your questions. Perhaps you will be able to unravel the mystery of Dr. Alain England."

^*V*^V

Upon first glance, England wondered if Rae had been mistaken about Al needing him.

The young doctor was tending to a few of the youngest patients with a gentle hand and a soft smile, but upon a second, harder look, the weariness was obvious in his posture, and the look about his eyes-

"Al?" England said quietly from the now closed flap of the tent. "Spare me a moment?"

"Sure!" As expected, the younger man's voice had the quality England had come to know meant that he was close to tears. "Ok, guys. Sleep well, and if you need anything, one of us will be nearby- just yell."

It wasn't until they'd walked a few meters away from the tent that they stopped, and England pulled Alain close. There was no resistance, only a now wet face pressed against his neck.

"You did your best, love." England murmured. "That's what counts."

"There had to have been something else I could've done- gotten to her earlier-" Alain's voice shook slightly. His arms snaked around England, and clung to him like a child. "I'm afraid, Arthur."

"Of what, love?" England squeezed him gently. How thin and frail he felt compared to the memories of long ago.

"That I forgot something." Al said quietly, face still against England's shoulder. "I don't remember anything before eleven years ago, so why wouldn't I forget things now? She was just a kid- an innocent little kid. I should have been able to help her."

"You made it through years of medical school, a residency. Have you ever had a problem with forgetting important things before?" England rubbed a hand against Al's back in what he hoped would be soothing circles. "I doubt that you have, or they wouldn't have allowed you to practise medicine."

"No, but..." Alain seemed to be calming. "There's always a chance. There was no physical reason for me to not remember. No brain damage- so it could happen again."

"China might know something. He- we may have been too hasty in assuming that he would have an ulterior motive." England admitted quietly, "Japan is here, and will fill him in. I would bring you to the discussion, however you should sleep."

"I'm not -"

"Tired, yes, yes. I know you think you're ready to keep going, but your body language says otherwise, sweetheart." England brushed a hand through Al's hair, and turned his head to kiss away those tears that he knew would be there, "I do love you so."

"But I couldn't-" Al's eyes were red in the illumination of the tent city. "There might be-"

"You, among all Nations," England touched his cheek gently, "cry so much for the people who aren't even your own. You always have cared- even though they may not like you very much- and that is one of the many reasons why I love you."

"England..." Al's eyes were soft and oh so blue as he leaned in to shyly brush his lips against England's own.

It took him a full minute to realise that Al had just called him by his real name.

"America..." England whispered tentatively, the fragile burst of hope dissipating with the shake of the golden head.

"Just Al," Alain's forehead was pressed against his own. "For a moment- I thought- There was something."

"Maybe you'll remember soon."

"Does it really matter if I remember or not?" Al sighed softly, "I'll always want to be with you, whether my first memory of you is a field somewhere in Virginia, or a hotel room in Tokyo. I've loved you since the moment I saw you- and that won't change."

"I wouldn't mind if you never remembered some of the moments when we weren't getting along. If we were human, I wouldn't care at all, so long as you didn't forget me again." England slipped out of the embrace reluctantly. "You're alive, you're relatively whole. But we're not human, and I don't know … if this is dangerous, or if it's just a mild inconvenience."

"Arthur. England..." Al started, then stopped, looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to cling to England, and never let go. And England was inclined to allow that. The only thing that stopped him was a long forgotten, but still familiar hiss, and a rush of wind.

"America! Get down!"

The sickening thud of flesh being penetrated barely preceded his warning.

Blue eyes blinked at him, uncertain of the warning, of the sudden protrusion of a wooden shaft from his stomach, just below the ribcage.

One of Al's hands was raising to grasp at the arrow, but before England could tell him to leave it alone- the sound came again. Only this time, the noise was accompanied by a stab of pain through his left kidney.

"Fuck." England gasped out, and reached for Al, who had fallen to his knees, very obviously fighting the urge to just yank the offending wood out of his body. He had to drag him under cover- if that mad sniper shot again, he'd have two sitting targets.

Another projectile whistled past his ear, and sunk an inch into the dirt.

"What the fuck was that-"

"Arrows. We're in the middle... of a technologically advanced …. and they shoot fucking arrows at us." Al's face contorted in agony as the arrow was jostled, his breathing quick and painful. "We're here to help- why..."

"I- China has to stop him." England could feel his own blood trickling down his back as he eased the American to the ground. There were no more projectiles, however there was a lot of shouting from the top of one of the nearby unstable buildings. "He can't let this madness continue."

"Are you all right?" Al asked so softly, as they huddled behind some boxes. "Did they hit you-"

"You've got an arrow through your gut, and you're asking if I'm all right?" England tried not to watch the dark stain spreading far too quickly. More yelling, and the vibration of footsteps closing in on their position. "Just stay quiet. The more you talk the longer it will take to heal."

"England!" Japan's stricken face came around the corner, eyes wide at the scene. He was followed by several of Alain's friends. "England-"

"England..." Al's hand rose, shaking, reaching into his shirt with a bloody hand. "I- this is for you, I think. I should have given it to you before now..."

"Idiot, you can give whatever it is to me later." England's world was losing focus. Damned arrow- he'd had worse, of course, but this would still knock him out of commission for a while. "I don't know... if I'll be able-"

Everything started to get quiet then, though England could see everyone shouting around them.

"Stay with me, America, my Alfred." The edges of his vision were darkening at a rapid pace, and the last thing England remembered was the feel of America's hand in his own, pressing something small and warm into his palm.


	11. Chapter 11

By the time France arrived, the dawn was breaking over a camp that, he could clearly see, had not slept- or at least, had not slept well.

Yes, there were still search and rescue teams coming and going, however the addition of a squad of China's own soldiers guarding over one structure near the centre and patrolling the perimeter verified all the things that had been told to him in a frantic midnight call.

(England had to be very desperate, and very drugged in order to call him, and the drugging showed in his voice, and the way that he trailed off and left the line open for an hour. Nothing he'd said had awakened the other...)

"Francis!" Rae's voice called to him, "You've arrived at a good time."

"Rae," France turned slightly to see her exiting one of the shelters looking exhausted, and possibly frustrated. There was blood on her clothing. "What is it? Is there anything-"

"Can you convince Arthur that he needs to stay in bed? I'm afraid he's going to aggravate the sutures, and wind up hurting himself. He'll heal up just fine, if he rests."

"He is stubborn like that." France felt the chuckle nearly bubbling out of his chest. "I have seen him hurt worse, and still manage to attempt to throttle someone who was annoying him."

"He has mentioned that, yes." Rae didn't seem as amused. "But I'd rather not have to worry about Arthur, while I'm tending to Alain."

"Ah yes..." The little bubble of anxiety made itself known once again. How much of what England had said was true? "I gathered from my call that things were serious... how is he?"

"Stable." Rae said with a sigh, and one hand running through silver hair. "He's got that rare blood type, the remnants of whatever flu that hit him in Tokyo, and from what his medical records indicate, he's still got a few potential complications from the attack."

"Potential complications?" France frowned. Of course he knew America, the land was still marked by the attack. "I know of his blood- as does Arthur."

"Alain lost his spleen, among the other injuries. His body... can't defend against infections as well as those who have one. It's one of the reasons I was worried about him in Japan- had that fever lasted much longer, I would've had to send him home." Rae frowned, "The surgeon said he needed to consult with me, and I've been so busy trying to keep Arthur calm without medicating him again-"

"Leave it to me." France said, smiling faintly. A familiar situation, but with unfamiliar questions left. "I've known him for a very long time. You might say I'm like his older brother."

Rae nodded, gestured towards the door, and hustled off towards another of the temporary buildings. Leaving France to take a deep breath, and enter...

...Nearly running over England, two feet inside the doorway, and shaking like a leaf.

"Angleterre," France chided immediately, "Nation or not, you should not be standing."

"I'm quite all right. "

"You passed out because of blood loss."

"That was last night. I'm healing just fine. I don't need to-"

"You need to rest. Even our kind need time to recover from serious wounds."

"I need to see him." England said, with a despair in his voice that made France wonder if Rae had given him something after all. He wouldn't allow himself to be that … openly weak, not with France. "He could die, and I could lose him again, and I don't think I could take that."

"He won't die, mon cher." France slipped an arm around the trembling form, and half forced, half led him back to the nearest cot, which was apparently where Rae had put him. "If he is only a bit worse than you- look, you're nearly on your feet already. And even if he did..."

"He's got no government, no capital." The sweat on the smaller man's face betrayed the obvious effort with which he forced himself to sit up. "If he dies..."

"Despite what you think, England, he will not stay dead. He might be weaker now. But-"

"Don't bloody patronise me, Frog." England's eyes snapped with anger. He wouldn't be down for long. "China explained a lot. If he dies now, there is an enormous chance that he won't come back. He's practically human right now."

"To begin with, you should remain calm. There are many things that China cannot predict. You are being hysterical."

"I can't..." There was an object in England's hand, that he was turning over and over. A pendant of some sort. "He almost remembered something. And he gave me this. This-"

"What is it?"

The object was reluctantly handed over.

From what France could see, the delicate silver knot had seen better days. It was slightly tarnished, and misshapen. Along one of the flatter 'ribbon' surfaces, he could see letters inscribed. If he used his imagination, he might think it said ….

"We were told that all he had left after he was burned was a piece of jewellery. I think Canada and I assumed that it was the cross he hadn't taken off since before the Great War. It wasn't- that's one of my names. And the knot- that pattern- it symbolises 'Forever'." England was very obviously trying not to snatch the piece out of France's hand. "That was what he went to get that night. Why he was out of bed-"

"You said he remembered something." France returned the pendant with a sigh. A romantic gesture that had turned nearly tragic. "What was it?"

"Almost remembered. He called me England. We were interrupted." The gesture towards the bandages that were stretching his shirt around England's middle was casual. "North Korea got me in the back."

"And he is well guarded, so I see." France frowned. Perhaps... "But as for the possible memory. I wonder..."

"Wonder what, Frog?" The snap was back in England's voice. "What have you been up to?"

"Merely doing some research. My boss, however, has been making some inquiries." France gave that shrug that simply screamed of carelessness. "It seems that the government of the country known as the United States is set up a bit …. differently than yours or mine."

A frown, but a curious one warred on England's face as he slipped the pendant back into his pocket.

"I do not pretend to be an expert upon the subject, nor do I have all of the details, however when our petit America's government was being set up, there was to be a sharing of power."

"His government always baffled me, but ours got along after a few decades... what's your point, France?"

"It means," France said with a sigh. "That I should have paid a little more attention to his structure when we were first believing him to be dead."

"What..." England just looked confused now.

"Sharing of power, Angleterre. He did not have one capitol. He had fifty-one. The loss of the Federal capitol probably hurt him badly, however..."

"He won't die from this." England said slowly, "He has a capitol- several of them. Not all of his regions were affected by the bombs-"

"Precisely, mon ami, he is weaker than he once was, but he still has a sufficient portion of his old strength that I doubt this will keep him down long."

"But his memory-"

"I have high hopes that it will return in time. The governor of Hawaii is making a bid for presidency, and Oregon's leaders are competing with another state for the location of the new federal buildings. Matthieu's boss has put forth the proposition that the United States of America be given special status at the UN, while the government formally re-forms itself. There have been efforts to rebuild the nation all along- the movement to be annexed has just been the noisier one." France shook his head. "Things are beginning to fall back into place."

For a moment, just one moment, England looked as though he might burst into tears once again.

"Time and time again we underestimated him, passed him off as an oblivious fool- but he knows, and occasionally... But he's alive, and healing."

"And it seems to be a bit of déjà vu in the air as well. The moment he heard of a resistance to China in Hawaii, Prussia took it upon himself to visit. It seems that he was listening in on Germany's phone calls again."

"But if it was Prussia- then-"

"Prussia only trained them to defend themselves." France smiled. "Tactics. All of the energy and will was purely American. The armies were decimated in the attack- fortunately no one took advantage of that."

There was a flicker of something that solidified to legible hope on England's face.

The temporary door flew open, startling them both. The hope was replaced by a swiftly concealed wince. France patted England's shoulder firmly before turning.

Rae looked a bit … unsettled as her eyes found them.

"Rae? What is it? Is Al all right?" England was suddenly tense under France's hand.

"He's …." Rae said slowly, "He's asking for you."

"Fuck." England was up and unsteadily heading for the door before France could move. "He's all right. He's got to be all right-"

"Wait, one moment, and I will help you." France slipped an arm through England's steadying him. "Rae? What's wrong?"

She shook her head.

"Rae..."

"I could have sworn his medical records said a complete splenectomy, but..."

"Something changed?"  
>"There must have been something left. It's regenerated itself. The wonders of the human body."<p>

"They can do that?" France asked, feeling the tremble in England's arm.

"They can. Alain is recovering well. No signs of infection- I was afraid I was going to have to airlift him to Tokyo, but now... He'll do until we get the next ambulance out, and I can send the two of you together." Rae led them both through the miniature city that the aid workers had created, past the guarded structure. "I wonder what made him do it." She murmured softly, and France almost missed it.

France caught England's eye, silently confirming the information that he suspected.

"He's a nutter." England said shortly.

"Angry and misinformed." France slipped in smoothly. Yes. North Korea. "The Chinese authorities will take care of him now."

"China had better take care of him, or I will." England growled.

"Now now, Angleterre."

"If he's insane, he needs help." Rae said with a sigh. "Not anger. I may be angry over what he did, however- you and Alain are alive. That's more important. Now- before the medicine knocks him out... and so that you will finally rest, like you are supposed to be doing."

The rest of the way to the main hospital structure was silent, punctuated only by small grunts from England as he stressed his injury.

Despite the early hour, and perhaps despite the lack of activity around the building, the ward was bustling. The smell of antiseptic and blood filled the air, making France not wish to linger longer than he must.

America- Alain was in one of the quieter corners, being monitored by some of the spare equipment, and looking far more pale than he should. He was obviously fighting to stay awake, eyes drooping shut, then suddenly bursting open again- reminiscent of how he'd been as a child, France was certain. (He would have to make a note to the doctors to make certain that this pair could share a bed, because France was quite sure that they, or at least England, would insist upon staying close to comfort and make up for the hours and days and years that they'd been apart...)

"Al?" England said from the foot of the bed, shaking France off. The way Alain's face lit up was something to look at, though the drugged haze in his eyes did indicate that it wouldn't last. The boy- man would be asleep shortly.

"Iggy..." Al's hand groped for England's, and the other clasped it. "Iggy, I... remember-"

"Al- America-" France's breath caught at the words that he could barely hear. "Don't you fall asleep on me yet, you … "

The soft apologetic smile remained on America's face as he lost the battle of the closing eyelids.

V*^*V*^*V

Japan had laughed when America had confessed to him the nickname that England had been so adamant to hear from him.

_ They had both been guests in Japan's home at the time, giving each other glances when the other was not looking. America acting as though he hadn't a care in the world except making friends with the whales off of Japan's coasts, (And Japan himself, of course.) England had been irritable at his presence, picking arguments- which Japan tried to courteously ignore._

_ And then came the incident with the sake._

_ For many westerners, used to the vinyards of France, rice wine was unexpectedly potent. The alcohol content was often twice what a grape wine would contain, causing many to misjudge their own tolerance. Not that England had much of a tolerance to begin with- thus only a short time into their cups, he was completely smashed, and babbling about things that made America's smile twitch._

_ By the end of the evening, they had to nearly pour him into his futon- and while America was tucking the blanket around the drowsy drunk with a care that belied any of his casual words of disregard from earlier, England's hand caught his arm for a moment, and begged him to call him the name he used to, just one more time._

_ There had been a flicker of emotion on America's face that Japan could not name, but before the request could be responded to... a loud snore came from their intoxicated ally._

_ Later, with just the two of them watching the wind toss the cherry blossoms in the courtyard, Japan had allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, and asked._

_ "What name did he wish for you to call him, America-kun?" Japan glanced at the younger Nation from the corner of his eye, trying to judge if his question was inappropriate. "If you do not mind me asking."_

_ "You can call me Al, if you want. I don't mind," America's gaze was distant, and Japan knew he wasn't seeing the rain of petals that was before him. "He wanted me to call him 'Iggy' again, and I just can't- It- what's so funny?"_

_ "America-kun, do you know how my people say his name?" Japan contained his brief laughter._

_ "No- I'm still trying to figure out how to ask for the bathroom."_

_ "The word for him is 'Igirisu'." Japan allowed himself a smile. "Which could be shortened to your 'Iggy', if one were inclined to shorten it."_

_ America laughed._

_ "If you do not know my language, I do not believe that is why you would ever have called him such a name." Japan inclined his head, watching the boy wipe at his eyes. _

_ "No," America sighed, "It's- when we first met, I was small, and there were so many languages in my head that... I couldn't speak his just right. There were sounds that I couldn't quite reproduce in his name at first, so I didn't. And- well. Lots of kids add that sound on the end of words. So the closest I could really get was 'Iggy' for a good long while. And after I could say his name, sometimes I'd call him that, because it'd make him smile. But I haven't called him that in about a hundred and fifty years now."_

_ Japan's mental calculations gave him a date that was suspiciously close to America's revolution. _

_ "Ah. I see."_

_ "I can't call him that anymore. I'm not a child." America's gaze was sad. "Still, I'm surprised he asked. He must have been really drunk."_

_ "He will have a tender head tomorrow." Japan nodded, wondering at the serious expression on his new friend's face. "Perhaps we should retire for the evening."_

_ "Yeah," The sad expression was gone almost immediately, a large smile replacing it. "Tomorrow he'll be miserable. I think I'm gonna be elsewhere- I don't need to deal with his hangover as well as my own."_

And again, Japan could find the laughter bubbling up from within, as France explained how England came to be curled up against Alain's side in the narrow hospital bed.

"He remembers." Japan repeated, "How much he remembers is yet to be seen, however, if he remembers that- there is hope."

"What is it that you have been doing, France?" China asked, still gazing at the pair unconscious on the bed. "I doubt that it is shock from this injury that has brought back memories, so what is it?"

"I have done little on my own- his people are the ones who are remembering who they are, thanks to your little invasion. They remembered how to stand up for themselves. Their history. I have merely offered them copies of their founding documents- ones that were given to me after I aided them. They are sentimental trinkets to me, however to them- to him-" France smiled, "I believe I should call Matthieu, and let him know. He will wish to be here when next our cher Amérique awakens."

"And North Korea..." Japan looked at China. "Have you told him?"

"I have not spoken with him yet. I do not know what will happen when I do." China frowned, "If America remembers, I wonder if he will be so forgiving as he was in the conference room. He was speaking from the lack of experience-"

"I cannot speak for my friend, China." Japan allowed a faint reassuring smile, "However, if he can forgive his enemies, and help them rebuild themselves, I will have faith that he can forgive again."

"He may forgive, but I do not know-" China sighed suddenly, "Will North Korea let it go as well? It takes two to argue, but only one to continue hostilities."

"We shall see, China." Japan said solemnly. "If he decides to continue, we shall have to find a way to contain him once more. The world, and America, have enough problems without adding a mad nation."

"We are agreed." France had been so quiet stepping out that Japan had not noticed when he returned. "And I am certain Canada will agree when he arrives. Until then, we should find out why Kil-Dong, our North Korea, wished to continue a conflict that he could not win."


	12. Chapter 12

^*V*^*V

"You remember." England found his voice somewhere in the babble, reaching up to touch the dear face. He shouldn't hope- but he couldn't help it, and it was America's fault. "You remember- what exactly?"

"I remember you." America's head turned slightly to press lips against the hand. "Loving you. The- revolution-separation. Things are … not all there. I have some gaps, but I remember the first time I saw you, and you were so … "

"Foolish." England pushed himself up on an elbow, the tug of stitches reminding him of his still healing wound. "To think I could keep you-"

"I was going to say 'Lonely'."

"You were lonely too, and I ignored it."

"I'm not lonely now." The smile was more sunshine than he ever deserved, ever hoped to bask in again.

It had been less than a week, and the few medical staff who were completely aware of their individual cases were either sworn to secrecy, or had been transferred to another rescue camp. There was no sense in advertising their identities- not with America still recovering.

One of those who had stayed was Rae, to England's relief.

"To be honest, I'm a little disappointed." Rae confided to him, only a day later, "To realise that we were right in believing that Alain was something special, but that it wasn't because he was the best and youngest- and that he'll probably leave medicine now."

"I don't know what he'll do now," England had told her, "America has always done precisely what he wanted. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he continued to practise in some form or another."

But for all the guesses of what the future would hold, one of the things that England and America needed to patch together was in the past. Specifically with North Korea.

To that end, they found themselves sitting in the bare room that had been hastily constructed, a pair of guards obvious at the door, and their allies close at hand. Al's hand slipped quietly into England's, disregarding the guarded smiles of the others in the room. America looked much healthier than he had when they had both awakened the morning after the shooting- and even if he didn't have all of the memory-

"It will be all right." Al- America gave him a faint tight smile, interrupted by the sound of the doorlatch.

England could only squeeze his hand, and try to stay calm.

North Korea had seen better days.

Not that there were signs of recent mistreatment- a few old scars from the war were visible beyond the hems of his garments, a faded bruise or two from where the soldiers had been forced to tackle him to take him into custody. It was his eyes that told the cliched rest of the story.  
>It had always seemed odd to see South Korea's face set into a stony frown; Where Yong Soo was all smiles and good temper (Or at least he had been before the war, now he was a bit more resolute, a bit more sober) Kil Dong had always appeared cross, foul tempered, and slightly unstable. It had been one of the main ways of telling them apart.<p>

Where once there had been anger, now there lay fear, pain, and sorrow.

North Korea's eyes flitting from face to face momentarily, freezing on America, then directing his gaze to the floor.

"Why renew the conflict that ended a decade ago?" America's voice was calmer than England felt.  
>"I do not know." Far from the confident tones of the past. "My leader-"<p>

North Korea stopped abruptly, and England frowned.

"He died in the counterattack, did he not?" England asked, not really wanting to recall those hours, those days when all he could do is look at the information coming to him from far away.

"No." The small voice said, "He died less than a week ago, in the remains of the hospital where I was confined."

There was a murmuring of nations around them, and a brief glance towards China showed the eldest country barely concealing surprise.  
>"I was unaware that he survived." China said flatly.<p>

"Most weren't." The tired prisoner rattled the token handcuffs that symbolized his current status. "He was very good at hiding things."

"Like warheads and plans for attack?" America now chimed in.

"His own insanity, his jealousy of you, the way he treated his people- but you saw the last from the outside." North Korea frowned, "You saw evidence of the camps, of the conditions- and did nothing."

"What would you have me do?" America held that serious expression that was so rarely shown to the world. And so little hesitation despite what England knew to be spottiness in his memories. "We tried to help you once, and it ended with the 38th parallel- I couldn't force you into something that you didn't want and sacrifice more people, more resources. We hoped that one day maybe you would break free of those particular influences-"

England could see both China and Russia shifting a bit uncomfortably at that.

"There was little you could do without starting a conflict with one of them." That broken gaze, and a chin lifting in some remnants of pride. "His forebearer's mental instability affected his people. I am the people- I have been whipped with the most rebellious, and starved with the least. I have carried out the duties required of me of my leader, and I have, once again, lost. I am leader-less, and for that loss, which has freed me from his madness, I am glad."

"He heard the rumors then, and sent you to kill me."

"He did." A faint smile crossed North Korea's face. "And he died believing that I had fulfilled his last wish- not realising that, even weakened, we are hardier than man. And that we die as the Phoenix, not as men."

Complete silence fell over the room.

"You have won, America. There will be no more war from my defeated people. I surrender to you unconditionally."

The world exploded into sound. Questions, denials, acceptance, laughter- and through it all, England watched America remain quiet, as stared disbelievingly at North Korea.

V*^*V*^V

The implications of North Korea's words hit France at the same time as it had hit every single other nation within the structure.

He remained quiet, however, while China kept repeating 'Not good, not good' in one of his people's oldest dialects. Russia's eyes were wide, and he looked, to be frank, a bit terrified.

"France?" Canada had been laughing softly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Non," France said with a frown, "It is complicated. This changes much-"

"He surrendered. That means Al's safe."

"It means that there will be no more hostilities, oui, however it also means that America is responsible for North Korea now. He can dissolve him, and absorb him- which would make sense, considering that America has been weakened-" France watched China clearly in some sort of quiet debate with Russia, who was mostly nodding. "Or he can rebuild- like was done with Japan."

"He remembers who he is. He won't-"

"America is still rebuilding himself. He can't afford- his people can't afford- financially to be responsible for another nation. He will have to absorb the lands- Dissolve-"

"North Korea..." America's voice came over the crowds. "You-"

"My fate is in your hands," The jingle of the token cuffs punctuated the words. "You may dissolve me, if you wish. I will not fight it. I only ask that you take care of my people when I am gone."

"Those who wish to shelter upon my shores, I will take care of." America had risen, shaking off England's hand. "But you-"

North Korea had his eyes closed and head bowed.

"You will have to take care of your own people." America reached out and snapped the metal cuffs. France could see the effort it had taken- not as easily as he would have accomplished it before- but what was America doing? Was he mad? "Your brother and other nations can help you- if you'll listen to them."

The chaos was turned to stunned silence.

"South Korea is hardly in a position-" England reminded the room.

"But I am willing to take the responsibility." The young voice came from a corner of the room that had been overlooked. Yong Soo stepped forward into the spotlight. "He is my brother, after all."

South Korea had not come out of the war unscathed, however he looked much healthier than his brother- their eyes met across the room. North Korea's face fell out of the neutral mask that he'd been wearing to hide obvious fear. There was a spark of something resembling hope now. And more-

"Brother-"  
>"If America can forgive you, so can I."<p>

"There are conditions." America spoke quietly, "I want you and your people to be as free as you should be- but if your military takes over again, everything will slide towards what was. Japan may have some advice to give on avoiding that. He's done a good job so far. And even though both China and Russia are changing- "

Both of the mentioned countries flinched visibly, China with an annoyed look, Russia with that same disturbing smile.

"-You need to learn how to rely on yourself and make your people happy without trying to make yourself into a copy of one of them- or me. It doesn't work like that. I mean, the freedom thing does for most of them, but we all have flaws. We're all different- there are ideas that are so rooted within us that it takes decades to change. The best thing you can do right now is learn from all of us, and improve as you go."

"America-" France couldn't remain quiet any longer, "You are in a position to gain restitution from North Korea for his leader's actions. It is within your rights as a Nation to ask anything-"

"There's only one thing I want- for him to be free." America's smile was different than France remembered. It was not the manic forced happiness, it wasn't the guileless disguise. Sincerity shone through like never before. "He's been a prisoner. He deserves to be with his brother, and get a second chance."

"And your restitution?" China squirmed uncomfortably as he asked with an obvious reluctance. "You are hardly in a position to be as generous as you have been in the past."

"My people have survived, and they are rebuilding." Again with the subdued smile, "It's not like we haven't had to start over under less than ideal circumstances before. It's part of my history- and part of my people. I was founded, in part, by those who left a more comfortable place for my shores."

England, to his credit, didn't even twitch.

"And your debt..."

"Will be paid in full. It's just going to take a while longer. I hope you and the others will be patient with me."

"And don't even think about invading his lands again, or you'll have more to deal with than you can handle." France couldn't help but smile as he saw England's hand slipping into America's for a gentle squeeze despite the fierce expression on the shorter Nation's face. "I will not tolerate any more incursions, nor will my people."

"Nor will my people." Canada's voice was very audible. "While America is rebuilding, we will stand with him."

Russia's laugh was quiet, and China's look of surprise near comedic.

"I was not thinking of that- not again. It would be far too problematic to conquer your lands while the people are as tenacious as they are."

"And as well armed." Japan did not even smile. "There was a reason that I did not attempt that, so many years ago."

"That as well." China shuddered delicately. "No, the proposition I am thinking of- your people have made advances despite the war."

"Advances?" America tilted his head at China. "I'm not as up on all the technological developments that have happened. I just spent the last few years at the hospital."

"You have the knowledge that I need. I believe we can come to an understanding, and perhaps an arrangement of peaceful sorts." China nodded to some internal thought. "We have much to discuss, both on setting the terms of North Korea's new direction, and a way to ease your debt."

The gathered Nations paused their side conversations, and listened.

V*^*V*^*V

The cool of the evening was peaceful and calm, with only a few faeries buzzing about, chattering to England about the way the orchids in the hothouse were blooming, and how much his almond tree had blossomed while he was gone. All in all, one of the quietest times he'd had for years, even with the babbling of the faeries, and the rustle of the breeze through the often mentioned tree.

A cup of tea, a favourite book, and the peace of knowing that he would see America soon.

The lingering uncertainty ghosted about England, however, remembering that he had been sitting thus on the day he'd nearly lost the boy, the man who had meant the world to him.

The fae seemed to sense the faint uneasiness about him, and scattered to find little things to amuse him- a daisy. A leaf of an herb that he had been meaning to pick. A stone with a vein of blue running through it that matched the colour of America's eyes-

The sun was setting by the time he heard the sound of a car door shutting at the front of his house. The sound of heavy footsteps on the gravel path that led around to his little haven told him exactly who it was. Others might ring the buzzer at the front, or knock- but only one person truly knew where to find him at this hour, on a day that was not raining.

"Hey, England," America looked happy, and tired, but brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

England couldn't do anything but leave the teacup and the book behind (Nearly knocking them off the little table in his haste) in order to step into the wide open arms, and the warm embrace of his lover, his friend.

"Missed you too, England." America said against his shoulder.

"Shush, you." England grumbled halfheartedly. "I know six months is not as long as eleven years, but it's still an awfully long time."

"I know," America didn't even move to break the tight embrace, "But things are in place to pay off the debts, my people are gathering together to inaugurate the first president since the attacks, and Tony's back and all healed up now. He's promised to help fix my house, and that leaves me free to come here."

"Cheeky bugger that he is. It's because he wants to live with you again, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's not like I spend a lot of time there these days- with the travelling physician gig- He's welcome to it."

"You're free for a while then?" England finally pulled away to look up at those eyes, that newly matured face. "You can stay with me?"

"They might need me at home sometimes, and I do have to go earn my keep with the kids once in a while, but I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

"I believe I'll take you up on that offer," England felt his lips quirk into a crooked smile, and he lurched up the inch or so to kiss America full on.

Faintly he heard giggling from the faeries, but ignored it in favour of kissing the breath out of America.

And in the quiet of the sunset, England felt the hole in his heart mending itself once and for all.


End file.
